


I'm Not Immune

by moodwriter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Dubious Consent, Fingerfucking, Frottage, Kidnapping, Knotting, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Mpreg, Scent Marking, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 14:20:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodwriter/pseuds/moodwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Did they inject anything into you? You can hold me back. You can stop me. I can’t stop you.” Stiles is in full blown panic mode now. </p><p>The one where Stiles and Derek get kidnapped, and sex needs to happen for reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Banner by me
> 
> The fic is betaed by the wonderful @aislinntlc. Thank you so much.

“It only affects you if there’s already attraction there,” the guy with an eyepatch says to Stiles, sounding like it’s amusing Stiles is tied to a metal table and at his mercy. 

Then Eyepatch injects something into Stiles’ vein, and it just can’t be happening to him. He runs with wolves. He’s strong. He eats people like Eyepatch for breakfast. Yet, they managed to capture him. 

“Fuck you,” Stiles croaks, trying to pull free, desperately kicking with his feet. He doesn’t know what they want from him, but he knows it’s nothing good.

“Unfortunately it’s not going to be me,” Eyepatch says. “I’m hoping for a completely different outcome.”

A red haired woman walks into the room, her perfectly shaped eyebrows making her look like an evil witch. Stiles is pretty sure she is one because of course he runs into crazy people with powers. He lives in Beacon Hills. 

“Is he ready?” Redhead asks, and Eyepatch nods, pushing the table Stiles is tied to out of the door. They are somewhere underground, no windows, just flashing lights above him, and a long, long corridor ahead of him.

“What do you want?” Stiles asks, panic settling in. 

They don’t answer, and Stiles doesn’t ask again because if he doesn’t know maybe it isn’t real. 

Finally they stop in front of a door and Redhead opens it with a number code that is so complicated Stiles can’t follow it. Before they enter, she also fiddles with a control board nearby and when she catches Stiles watching, she says, “We don’t want him attacking us.” She gives him a brilliant smile, and it’s creepy as fuck. 

He stares at the door, hoping this doesn’t mean what he think it does: they have someone else here as well, someone he knows. 

They roll him in, and he hears growling from a corner he can’t see. Then, he’s left alone with the wolf in the corner, and now he hopes it’s someone he knows because it’s going to be a disaster otherwise. 

“Stiles?” It’s Derek. 

He tries to look back, tries to see, and then Derek is hovering above him. “Oh my god, what did they do to you?”

“I’m okay. Just get me off this thing.”

Derek cuts him free, helps him off the table, and walks him up to a couch. At least their prison is comfortable. Everything is made of solid surfaces, mostly metal, and the only two separate objects are the couch and the bed. Everything else is a part of the walls. 

“Where are we?” Stiles asks, but Derek is busy touching him, trying to find any part of him that’s hurt. He sniffs at the needle mark. 

“What’s this?”

“I don’t know.”

“It smells weird.” Derek is holding his arm, his nose still close to Stiles’ skin. “It smells like… hormones… something bad. Did they tell you anything?”

Stiles shakes his head, overwhelmed by it all, then he remembers. “He said it’ll only work if there’s already attraction there.”

“What?”

“Sex drugs? I’m not attracted to any of them, and he said it’s not going to be him doing… Oh my fucking god… You.”

Derek looks at him with scared eyes. 

“Did they inject anything into you? You can hold me back. You can stop me. I can’t stop you.” Stiles is in full blown panic mode now. 

Derek looks thoughtful for a second, clearly trying to remember what’s been done to him. “I wasn’t awake the whole time, and the healing kicks in right away so no marks. I don’t know.”

“You’re not attracted to me,” Stiles says firmly. “You’re not. Nothing’s going to happen. They’re crazy if they think…” A wave of warmth washes over him, and he scoots back, away from Derek’s touch. “Oh god, you stay away from me.” He lifts his legs up on the couch and holds his foot against Derek’s torso. “You stay there.”

Derek sniffs the air, then says, “It’s affecting you already.”

“I’m not… I wasn’t… I’m not attracted to you.” Even to his own ears, he sounds so fucking small. 

“It’s okay,” Derek says gently. 

“No, it’s not. Do you feel anything?”

Derek looks withdrawn, but says, “No, don’t worry.”

“So I’m the only one?” Why does it hurt? It makes no sense. 

“We’ll get through this, just stay calm.” Derek moves a little closer, but stops immediately when Stiles groans. “Can I do anything?” Derek asks, and Stiles just wants the earth to swallow him. 

“You can stay away from me.” He feels another wave of warmth, and it’s stronger this time, makes him lie down and arch his back. He wants to touch himself, be touched. “Fuck. It’s not… I can’t control it.”

Derek is quiet for a moment, then says, “Should I go to the bathroom? Should I leave you alone?”

It sounds like a good idea because he can’t help touching his thighs, spreading them wider, these obscene noises coming out of his mouth. “Yeah… Okay… Leave.”

Derek gets up, takes a step away, and Stiles feels the connection building between them. There’s something in Derek’s blood too. 

“You’re drugged too,” Stiles says, trying to focus his eyes on Derek, but then he feels the fever spreading, and he cups himself through his pants, groaning.

Derek stands still, quiet, waiting, his back to Stiles. “I’m okay.” He inhales deeply. 

“Yeah? So I’m the only one who’s going to embarrass himself?” Stiles twists his body, locks his hands between his thighs, trying not to let the feelings overpower him. 

“You’re not embarrassing yourself. You can’t help it.”

“It’s just obvious… Forget it!” Stiles bites his lower lip, squeezes himself and hopes his own hand will be enough. “Go, I can’t… Go.”

Derek leaves him, and the moment he’s alone, Stiles pushes his pants down unceremoniously, and starts jerking off. It’s quick and intense, and he doesn’t want to think of who might be watching. He knows Derek can hear him so he tries to stay quiet. It’s not easy. When he comes it’s messy, but he’s too exhausted to find paper to clean himself up. He just pulls his pants back on, and wipes his hand to his jeans. 

He falls asleep immediately after. 

When he wakes up there’s a blanket over him and a pillow under his head. Derek is reading on the bed, looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world. 

“Why are you so calm?” Stiles asks, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck. He feels icky. 

Derek smirks. “If I had a heart attack every time someone kidnaps me I’d be dead already. Either we die or we survive. No need to fret over something we can do nothing about at the moment.”

“Wise words, Buddha.” Stiles looks around. “So do we have anything to eat?”

“The fridge is full of food. They seem to want to keep us healthy.”

Stiles goes to the small kitchen, looks through the cabinets, and then finally opens the fridge. They have containers full of food, and the fridge door is full of bottled water, but there are no knives. “How am I supposed to spread butter on my bread?”

“With a spoon?” Derek says, not looking up. 

Great. He grabs a container of Thai takeout and a bottle of water, and saunters back to the couch. “Have you eaten?”

Derek nods, still reading. 

Stiles sits quietly for a second, eating and drinking and thinking, and then he says, “So… They want us to have sex.”

This time Derek looks up. “Maybe they are just measuring our reactions.”

“For what?”

“For science,” Derek says, and it sounds like he’s always wanted to say it. Stiles gave him the perfect opportunity. 

“I hate you. I hate your calmness. I hate your control. I hate you.” Stiles takes a bite of his food, staring at Derek.

Derek grins, but says nothing. 

“What if they succeed? What if they make us do the thang? What is their end game?”

“Power?” Derek raises an eyebrow. “It’s always about power.”

“And what power could they possibly get from a werewolf and a mage fucking?” Stiles tilts his head. 

“Maybe they need electricity.” 

Stiles laughs, throwing his head back. He’s so happy he’s locked up with Derek. 

Derek stares at him for a while, then says, “I don’t know any lore about this so I don’t know what they have in mind. You know more about sex magic than I do. Is there anything there?”

He sobers up, thinking, chewing on his food. “A premise of sex magic is the concept that sexual energy is a potent force that can be harnessed to transcend one's normally perceived reality,” he recites from memory. “Maybe they want to steal my magic at the peak of my orgasm or something.”

Derek grunts. “They could’ve done that already. They need us to… do the thang for some reason.” 

Stiles loves Derek for stealing his words. “Maybe they are looking for a perfect mixture for making werewolves mate with mages.”

“He said it only works if there’s already attraction there.”

Stiles groans. “Rub it in, will you? Yeah, I happen to like tall, dark, and broody. Look yourself in the mirror sometimes. Your picture should be in the dictionary under sex on legs… So sue me.” Stiles sighs, hiding his face in his hands. He still babbles way too much when he feels uncomfortable.

Derek laughs, the bastard. 

“So you felt no desire to rip my clothes off with your teeth?” Stiles asks, trying to smother the tiny hopeful feeling.

This time, Derek snorts. 

“Be honest. I have to know if we need to figure something out, or if you’re immune to my wiles.”

“I’m not immune,” Derek says gently. “And I’m not going to do anything with you.”

Stiles looks up, surprised. He wasn’t expecting that. He honestly thought Derek would at least deny it. They’ve always had something going on under the surface; they’ve just never admitted it in any way. What does it say about their lives that it happens while they’re held captive? “How not-immune are you?” He has to ask. He wants to know. 

Instead of giving a direct answer, Derek says, “You smell like spunk. You should shower.”

Stiles swallows, trying to keep his heartbeat steady. He feels like prey suddenly. “That bad, huh?” he asks, slowly getting up. There is a wardrobe next to the bed, and he probably shouldn’t go there to look for clean clothes, but he does because he never backs down. He’s crazy that way. 

Derek is reading the book again, and he looks so relaxed. It’s all a lie. 

There’s a deep breath behind Stiles, and he wonders how quickly Derek could have him on the bed and underneath him. Two seconds? 

He finds a clean pair of underwear and a towel, then notices that the wardrobe is full of clothes and sheets, like they’re expected to stay here for a long time. At least they’re not planning on murdering them any time soon so Scott and the others have time to find them. 

Without glancing back, Stiles heads to the bathroom. He closes the door, locks it, and then leans against it, his body needing to let go. Even if Derek is able to channel his frustration and fear, Stiles isn’t. They took away his ability to do magic. They injected something into him that makes his hormones go crazy. And now... now he’s washing his own spunk off his skin so his werewolf friend doesn’t go feral. Must be Tuesday. 

He stays in the shower for a long while, trying to figure out how to escape, how to avoid any more injections, how to be powerful and not lose this game. He has no answers. 

When he gets back to their little room Derek is still reading. 

It gets on Stiles’ nerves, but it’s not Derek’s fault. Stability is not Stiles’ strong suit, and seeing it in others makes him nervous. Derek wouldn’t have survived his life if he didn’t have the ability to let go of things when he needed to. 

Derek can sleep anywhere. Stiles has witnessed it in more than one occasion. Derek is a freak of nature. 

“Scoot over. I’m not sleeping on the couch,” Stiles says, climbing into bed with Derek. It’s not the wisest decision he’s ever made considering they are not supposed to fall for the trap these people have laid out for them. He’s too tired to care, though.

Derek does what he’s told to, and Stiles sighs, letting his head fall against the pillow. He needs sleep like air right now. 

For the next two days, they are left alone, and they mainly just eat and talk. There isn’t much to do, and Stiles knows he’ll lose his mind if he doesn’t get some tools to work with soon. He needs at least a deck of cards and maybe even crossword puzzles. He’s not hoping for a TV or a computer because they have too many moving parts that they could use to cause problems. 

They mostly talk about their situation, but never about the pack and what they are doing because they know that the walls have ears. Stiles just hopes Lydia has enough clues for her brilliant brain to solve the puzzle. Stiles was taken from home; Derek was taken while he was out shopping. There is no pattern, but if there’s something that leads Lydia here she’ll find a way, and she’ll make a plan that will obliterate anyone standing between her and her pack mates. They are pretty tight nowadays. 

Then on the third day, the walls turn into guns that are full of wolfsbane bullets and threaten to kill Derek if he doesn’t go to the furthest corner from the door. Stiles is left standing in the middle of the room, panicking. They strap him back onto the table, roll him away, and run some tests, make him drink something, and then pump him full of the same hormones they did before. Or maybe they are better, stronger, designed to break Derek. They sure as hell are breaking Stiles. 

He tries to talk to Redhead, tries to get some information about who they are and why they’ve taken them, but he gets nothing for his troubles except a clammy hand to his mouth and a hiss, “Shut it.”

Stiles is planning her murder when they roll him back into the cell. Derek is whining in the corner, and that tells Stiles he’s hurt. 

When Redhead and Eyepatch are gone Stiles pulls at the restraints and tries to see Derek. “Are you okay?”

“I fucking hate electricity,” Derek growls, and Stiles laughs because he’s so, so relieved. 

Derek crawls to his side, gets him free, and when Stiles sits up, Derek presses his head against Stiles’ thigh. “Are they hurting you?” Derek asks, his voice soft. 

“Other than pumping me full of drugs? No, I’m good.” He hesitates for a second, then pets Derek’s hair. He hopes they’ll get out of here before anything too horrible happens. He hates to be helpless, and he knows Derek hates it even more. He knows Derek doesn’t like walls around him. “I’m sorry you have to go through this,” Stiles whispers, and Derek looks up, confused. 

“I’m good,” Derek says. “Promise.” A slight tremor goes through his body because of the electric shocks that were given to him. It steals away from his words, but Stiles believes him anyway. Stiles needs to believe him because if Derek isn’t fine they won’t stand a chance. 

“Take me to the bed, please.” Stiles looks at Derek, looks at his eyes, the way his mouth makes him look sulky, and then touches his cheek. “It’s starting.” He’s already feeling the fire burning low in his belly. 

Derek helps him off the table and half-carries him to bed. Stiles lets him because he needs all the energy he has to endure this. Once he’s lying down, he takes off his shirt. Everything hurts his skin, and he can’t take it, can’t take any of it. Doesn’t want to. 

Derek is getting up, moving away, and that’s a bad idea. It makes Stiles scream. 

“What?” Derek asks, his face close to Stiles’. “What’s going on? What’s hurting you?”

“Don’t go,” he manages to say because that’s what he needs: Derek here, close, touching him, keeping him sane. “Please don’t go. I can’t do this without you.”

Derek sits down slowly, but doesn’t touch Stiles, just stays there, a quiet presence of strength. 

Stiles tries not to lose his sense of reality, but the feelings that have been forced on him are too powerful. They make him keen, make him writhe, make him grab the sheets, and arch. He wants Derek’s hands on him. “Please, touch me. Please.”

Derek puts a hand on Stiles’ stomach, and it sets him on fire, makes him moan out loud. 

“More, please.” The words are barely audible through his panting. He’s so out of it, so out of control, and he needs Derek to acknowledge it. 

Derek only strokes his stomach gently, only touches him lightly with that one hand, and Stiles can’t take it anymore. He yanks his pants down to get his hand on his cock, and he only needs to jerk himself a few times before he’s coming all over Derek’s hand and his own stomach. Some of it lands on his chest and chin too. 

This time it’s not enough, but it makes him feel relaxed, and he sinks into the pillows. “I feel so heavy,” he slurs, and Derek says something he can’t hear. It doesn’t matter. He feels so good. 

When he comes around his stomach is clean, and Derek is sitting next to him, reading again. His pants are back on, but his chest is bare. That makes him realize how much he wants to touch his nipples, how much he wants Derek to touch them. 

“Still?” Derek asks, not looking at Stiles, and that’s just too much. Stiles wants to sink through the bed, disappear, be invisible. 

“Shut up.” He turns on his side, willing the feelings to go away. He’s still horny, still in need of hands all over his body. He needs sex, so, so, badly. Stiles bites his wrist and curls into a ball. 

Derek is quiet for a long time, then moves closer, hovering above Stiles. “I’m not judging you. They’re doing this to you, and I’m sure your magic isn’t helping. They know how to manipulate your magical body.”

“How are you able to resist it?” Stiles croaks, desperately thinking of something other than Derek’s voice and warmth and scent. 

“Because I can’t lose it.”

“Why?”

“I’ll hurt you.” Derek sighs, then breathes in, his nose so close to Stiles’ hair it can’t be an accident. “They’re playing with my instincts. You smell like mine. Just a little bit wrong so it has to be artificial, but almost right…” Derek’s hand touches Stiles’ side, his claws out. 

“I want this,” Stiles whispers, trying to curl closer, but Derek doesn’t let him. Stiles opens his legs, pushes his hand in his sweatpants, and curls it around his cock, squeezing. “Fuck, I need this. Please.” Stiles tilts his head in a way that leaves his throat bare, and he knows Derek can’t resist it, won’t. He feels sharp teeth against his pulse point, and he shouts when he comes, his fingers wet and sticky. 

It gives him an idea, a crazy idea, and he pushes his fingers as far back between his thighs as he can reach, and presses a finger tip against his hole. 

Derek growls, biting Stiles harder, his nails drawing blood. 

“Fuck… Oh yeah… bite me. Rub yourself off on me. I don’t mind. I don’t care. Just do it.”

And Derek does, pushing Stiles face down on the bed, his teeth never leaving Stiles skin. It’s the hottest, heaviest thing Stiles has ever experienced, and it’s over far too quickly. Derek whines when he comes, like he’s ashamed, angry, but he doesn’t go anywhere afterwards. He just stays on top of Stiles, his cock nestled against Stiles’ ass, his whole body so hot Stiles is sweating with him. They probably need to change the sheets. 

Stiles still has the tip of his finger inside himself, and he pulls it out slowly, tries to get comfortable, but the ton of werewolf on top of him makes it a little difficult. 

Derek lost control, and Stiles didn’t even smell exactly right, just right enough. It’s not good. 

“Sorry,” Derek says quietly, still not moving off of Stiles. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He made Derek lose control. He did that. 

“I should be stronger than this.” Derek licks the bite mark on Stiles’ neck. 

They both should. They have no idea what’s going to happen if they have sex. Even the orgasms can lead to something terrible. “Yeah, we should try to be stronger. I don’t want to give them what they want.”

“Me neither.” Derek rolls off of him, and Stiles feels sticky and cold. He wants a shower. 

“We should totally eat something. I’m starving.” He grins into the pillow when he hears Derek laugh. Yeah, they can survive this. Maybe their friendship can, too. “I’ll have a quick shower first.”

“Please do. You stink.” It’s playful, and meant to cover all the damage they just did, and Stiles accepts it. He pokes Derek in the ribs just like he would’ve done a week ago in a pack meeting. Then he kicks Derek out of the bed and goes to the shower. 

Derek hums, sounding grateful when Stiles gets back and doesn’t smell like hormones and spunk and _Derek_. 

To Be Continued...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned into a longer story than what I anticipated. Sorry about it. I hope you don't mind. I have no idea how long it'll be, but hopefully not longer than a few chapters. 
> 
> Also, it's going to be a male pregnancy story so if that's not your thing you might want to stop reading now. :) Happy reading. <3

Again, they get two days of quiet time, and then Stiles is taken to the examination room. His blood gets taken, his blood pressure measured, and then they inject another dose of the magical viagra into his vein. This time, they speak even less, and Stiles is starting to think they’re unhappy about the results. Maybe they thought Stiles and the wonderful werewolf would be fucking already. He doesn’t understand why they get two days of recovery time if their captors are in a hurry. 

They take him back to the prison, and this time, Derek is nowhere to be seen. Stiles is worried, and since Derek isn’t there, all he can do is lie on the metal table and wait. He’s hard already, shaking and sweating, and if he can’t get his hands on himself, he might really die of a heart attack. His blood is rushing in his ears, his breaths shallow. Why didn’t they untie him if Derek isn’t here to free him? 

Nothing happens for a long time, and then when a trap door in the ceiling opens and Derek is dropped down, limp and breathing hard, there’s nothing left of Stiles’ mind but the small part that needs to have sex, needs it so bad it’s killing him. But Derek isn’t moving, and Stiles is just going to have to survive on his own. He comes twice on that table without being touched, and it hurts like nothing before. But it doesn’t help; the fever doesn’t go away. 

Mercifully he passes out at some point. 

He’s lying on the bed when he wakes up, a cold towel over his forehead, and Derek is on his side next to him. Derek’s eyes are closed, and he’s barely breathing, but he’s clearly awake. He’s shirtless, and Stiles has a hard time not staring at the muscles moving under his skin.

“What happened to you?” Stiles asks, and Derek opens his eyes. They are bright blue, but he’s human otherwise. 

“They are trying to tap into the werewolf side of me, trying to break me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we’re not as fast learners as they would like us to be. Maybe they’re trying to quicken the process.” Derek sounds exhausted. 

“Did they torture you?”

“They want the wolf to be on the surface. So yeah... they did.”

Stiles turns on his side, staring at Derek. “I’m so sorry.”

Derek smiles, his eyes tired. “It’s not your fault.”

It feels like it is. Everything feels like it’s Stiles’ fault. He’s the one who should be figuring out how to get them out of here. Instead, he’s the one who’s always strapped to a table, yearning for sex. 

He’s still horny, and Derek can smell it. Stiles notices how dark Derek’s eyes get, and how quiet he becomes. 

“I need to touch you,” Derek says carefully. “Is that okay?”

Stiles nods, and when he does, Derek’s hand goes right between his thighs, cupping his balls and touching his hole through the pants. Stiles loses his ability to breathe. He’s too shocked. 

“Yeah,” Derek says, squeezing, and Stiles sees stars. He moans, tilting his head back. Derek pulls Stiles’ body flush against his own, keeping them on their sides, pushing Stiles’ pants down enough to reveal his ass. 

“Oh god,” Stiles says, breathing in Derek’s scent, trying to spread his legs, but the pants prevent him from doing much. 

Derek sucks two of his own fingers into his mouth, gets them wet, and then slides them over Stiles’ hole. Then he licks at them again, getting his spit all over them. When he presses the first finger in, he turns on his back, and pulls Stiles into his lap, makes him move right there, his finger in Stiles’ ass, as deep as it goes. 

Stiles groans, then bites Derek’s neck, makes Derek shudder underneath him. It feels too good, everything feels so good he forgets where they are and only concentrates on what is happening. Derek holds that one finger against Stiles’ prostate, rubs it gently, and keeps Stiles against his own hard cock. 

Stiles wants to move, wants Derek to move the finger, wants to come more than anything in the world, but he can do absolutely nothing. He’s on the edge, and Derek is keeping him there, forcing him to stay there, like he’s never going to let Stiles fall. 

It only ends when Derek flips them over, pulls Stiles pants the rest of the way off, and ruts against Stiles, his finger still inside Stiles’ body. That’s what opens all the gates in Stiles and he starts shaking, coming so hard he loses all sense of reality. There’s nothing stopping the sounds from coming out. 

When it’s over Derek just lies there on top of him, covering him completely, like he’s trying to keep Stiles safe. And maybe he is. Maybe this is Derek’s way of saying that nobody else gets to see Stiles like this. 

Stiles is wrecked, ruined beyond recognition, and he has no idea how to tell Derek that he wants to keep Derek like this forever. 

“We’re giving in,” Derek whispers. Stiles tries to nod, but he has no strength left. 

Derek kisses the side of Stiles’ mouth. “I want to fuck you. Nothing makes it better. I want inside you. I need to be inside you. I want to fill you up, make you come on my cock. I want to breed you.”

All those words are whispered in his ear, and there’s nothing Stiles can do but whine. He wants Derek to do all that, and he spreads his legs to give Derek a better access to his body. He needs it too.

Derek is hard against Stiles’ thigh, so close to his opening, so fucking warm. 

“I won’t…” Derek whispers, then bites Stiles’ ear. “I can’t....” 

Stiles nods this time, then shakes his head. Derek is delirious. He should find the lube, fuck into Stiles, and forget about the world. They should do it. He needs Derek to fuck him.

Derek’s damp sweatpants barely keep Stiles guessing. He came, they both did, and it isn’t slowing them down. Fuck Stiles’ life and witches who want him to have sex with one of his best friends. 

Derek bites Stiles’ neck, then his shoulder, making Stiles moan and tilt his head to the side. Stiles wraps his legs around Derek’s body, holding him close, forcing Derek’s cock even closer to his hole. “You need to fuck me. Please…”

There’s a short moment of stillness, and then Derek moves a little, stretches over Stiles, trying to find something from the drawer beside the bed. Then he’s back, right above Stiles, his eyes heated. There’s lube in his hand. “I want to.” It sounds like a question so Stiles nods. “Me too,” Stiles says, grabbing the back of Derek’s head and pulling him into a kiss. 

It’s their first, and it makes all the hairs in Stiles’ body to stand out. He feels too much. “Please.”

Derek growls, bites the pillow next to Stiles’ face, and then rolls off of him. “Fuck.” He gets up, shaky on his feet, and moves further away from the bed. 

Stiles stares at him, knows his eyes are wild. 

“I’m saying no,” Derek says, sounding so unsure Stiles feels sorry for him. “Okay? Can I say no?”

Stiles clears his throat. “Yes.” He spreads on the bed, inviting. He can’t help it, can’t help the heat under his skin. “You can,” he says softly, then bites his lip. He takes the lube, gets his hands wet, and touches himself, presses two fingers inside him, imagining it’s Derek doing that to him. He’s staring at Derek the whole time because he can’t stop. “Talk to me.” He adds another finger, not touching his cock, just pinching his nipple and arching with the press of his fingers.

“What…” Derek leans against the wardrobe, hands in tight fists at his side. “What can I say?”

“What you’d do to me?” Stiles breathes out, adds a fourth finger, teasing his hole with his thumb. 

Derek swallows audible. “I’d make you beg,” he whispers.

Stiles lets out a whine. “What else?” He’s so close.

“I’d knot you, fuck you until I couldn’t move. I’d make you unable to walk.”

“Would you bite me?”

Derek squeezes his cock, his eyes glued to Stiles. “Yeah, yes… I’d fucking claim you.”

Stiles comes, shouting incoherently. It lasts longer than any of his orgasms before, and the high doesn’t let go of him. When he’s lying there, sated, he feels Derek approaching the bed. “Can I?”

Stiles focuses his gaze on Derek and the hand still moving on his cock, and Stiles smiles, baring himself completely, making it clear that Derek can do whatever he wants. 

What Derek wants is to come all over Stiles. He kneels on the bed, jerking himself off, and when he shoots he uses his palm to rub his come on Stiles stomach and chest and sides. It has to be a werewolf thing. 

Stiles passes out before he can ask. 

They stay in bed the whole day, trying to avoid too much contact. They have clean clothes on, and they’ve both showered, but Derek sniffs Stiles every once in a while like he still smells of sex and hormones, like he’s still Derek’s mate.

“We’re going to have sex at some point,” Stiles finally says, glancing at Derek who’s reading again. 

Derek doesn’t say anything, but he nods.

“So what can they gain from it? What kind of power?”

Derek looks tired when he finally lifts his gaze from the book. “You won’t like my guess.”

“And what is that?”

“They want me to get you pregnant.” Derek looks pained. 

Stiles’ mouth has fallen open so he closes it slowly, then says, careful with his words, “I’m a boy with boy parts. Wouldn’t it have been easier to kidnap a witch with actual girl parts?”

“Easier, yes, but I don’t think it would’ve given them what they want. There are two known cases of a mage getting pregnant. The babies were extraordinary.”

“I thought you didn’t know any lore.”

“Not about sex magic, but this is different.”

“Yeah, they want me to have a magical werewolf baby.” Stiles sits up straighter. “We’re not having penetrative sex. Period.”

Derek sighs. “I could barely stop myself. You can’t even do that. How are we not going to have sex if they crack the code in our brains?”

Stiles shudders. Derek is right. “We need to get out of here.” They’ve searched the entire prison, and they’ve tried to come up with a plan, but there’s nothing that works. Stiles has no powers, Derek is powerless against the wolfsbane guns, and their captors are just too good at their job. They are stuck. “I hate this,” Stiles whines. 

Derek sits up too, touching Stiles’ shoulder. He slides his palm over the muscle and without thinking, Stiles leans into the touch. Yeah, they are doomed. Derek lets his hand drop, then says, “Or we deal with things as they come. We’ll fight it as long as we can, and when we can’t… When we can’t…”

“Yeah…” Stiles is not happy with the _can’t_. “You’re not the one who’d be carrying the magical baby.”

Derek groans. “What else do you want me to say?”

“That we’re going to win. That you’re strong enough to not give in. That we’ll be rescued before anything bad happens. That we’ll survive this, and I don’t have to have a baby who’ll most likely be stolen from me. Please?”

Derek pulls Stiles into a hug, and after a while, Stiles starts to relax. Derek can’t tell him that everything is going to be alright, but Derek can make him feel a little bit better by just being there. Stiles wraps his arms around Derek, breathes in his scent, and hopes that Scott is getting them out of here sooner rather than later.

 

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter makes the story a bit different. Happy reading. <3
> 
> And the lovely @aislinntlc continues to amaze me as my beta. Thank you, bb.

Stiles is forcefully awoken from a dream by a shocking realization that he can do something to save them. 

He sits up, staring at the darkness of the room, his mouth hanging open. He’s such a stupid fuck he doesn’t deserve to be called a genius. 

Derek blinks his eyes open, but before he can say anything Stiles leans over him and whispers in his ear, “I know how to tell Scott where we are. Don’t say anything. Act like I had a bad dream.”

Stiles lets Derek pull him into his arms, lets Derek stroke his back and whisper nonsense in his ear. It’s surprisingly comforting and helps him focus on the things he needs. Sugar and water are at the top of his list. Then he needs a little bit of ammonium chloride and their DNA. It’s that fucking simple, and he didn’t think about it. Probably because he hasn’t needed to do it for a long time, not after his magical abilities became more prominent. 

He falls asleep, Derek still holding him, and somehow that makes everything a little better.

It doesn’t last, though, because right after breakfast, Derek gets tranquilized and taken away, and Stiles gets tied to a metal table yet again.

Redhead makes him drink black goo that tastes the same as motor oil smells, and then they run electricity through his body. It’s not torture, though, just them trying to make his body react in a way it should, something about his cells and the magic in his veins and how the concoction hasn’t been doing what they’ve been expecting it to do. 

They talk more this time, and Stiles tries to remember everything they say, but it’s a little difficult because of all the stress his body goes through. He’s exhausted when they finally roll him back to their prison, and he doesn’t try anything when they free him, just lets them help him on the bed. 

He’s worried about Derek, but he can’t keep his eyes open, can’t think of anything because his mind-body connection is broken. He falls into a restless sleep. 

The sound of Derek’s growls wakes him up, and he’s on his feet and off the bed in a second. He may not be a werewolf, but he has pretty good instincts and everything in him tells him to flee. 

Derek is at the far end of the room right under the trapdoor at the ceiling, and he’s crouched on all fours, wolfed out. 

The only escape Stiles sees is the bathroom, and he runs for his life, hoping that he’ll be fast enough. 

He barely is, managing to fall on the bathroom floor, and kick the door shut, and then click the lock with shaking fingers. He lies there, his back against the opposite wall, his feet against the metal door. He can always hope the door holds, that it’s werewolf proof, that there’s no other way into the bathroom. 

Derek is furious, scratching and kicking at the door, howling outside it, then tearing into something, and it sounds like he’s breaking everything he can reach. It hurts, and Stiles closes his eyes, puts his hands over his ears. 

_What are they doing to Derek?_

“Is this your idea of how to conceive a child?” he asks, knowing that they are listening. “He’ll kill me. If you want him to be a wolf, if you want to play with his instincts, use your tactics on me. You clearly know nothing about how werewolves work. Please don’t hurt him anymore. Please.”

Nobody answers him, and nothing happens for a while, then suddenly everything goes quiet behind the bathroom door. 

“What did you do?” Stiles asks, then shouts the same thing, fumbling with the lock of the door, knowing that he might face a feral werewolf. He doesn’t care. He’s more concerned about Derek. 

He finds Derek lying on the floor, a tranquilizer pointing out of his back. Stiles runs to his side, but he knows Derek is okay because it’s the same stuff they’ve used before. He pulls the dart out of Derek’s body, then sits beside him, hugging his legs, feeling utterly miserable. 

Their room looks like a storm hit it, their sheets and blankets torn and bloody, every loose object thrown around and broken to pieces. Stiles doesn’t think about what would’ve happened to him if he hadn’t been quick enough.

It takes him a few more breaths to realize that this is the perfect opportunity to make the concoction he needs to alert Scott. He goes into the kitchen and grabs a glass, spoon, bottle of water, and then pours some sugar into the glass. His next stop is the bathroom and the shampoo bottle they’ve been given. He puts a dash of that in with the sugar and goes back to Derek. Now he only needs their DNA and it’s ready. Magic is easy if you know what you’re doing. 

He pulls out one of his hairs, then does the same to Derek and puts those into the glass as well. He mixes everything with water and waits for Derek to wake up. 

Derek is dead to the world for over an hour, and it makes Stiles worry. Maybe they used too much of the stuff on him, maybe Derek is not an elephant, maybe he can’t take it. Then again, it’s a good thing it takes forever for him to wake up. At least it’s less likely that he’ll try to eat Stiles again - or worse. 

The moment Derek’s eyes open he hides his face in his hands and curls into a ball. Stiles touches Derek’s arm gently, but Derek flinches back and murmurs, “Don’t touch me.”

“You didn’t do it on purpose,” Stiles says, trying to sound reassuring. This is fucked up. 

Derek looks at him, his eyes burning with shame. “I could’ve hurt you.”

Stiles knows that. “You didn’t.”

“I remember… God, I would’ve taken you by force.” Derek turns away, hides again, and all Stiles wants is to make him feel better. He moves closer, puts his arm carefully around Derek, and just lies with him on the floor. He feels helpless, hopeless, and it’s just not them at all. 

“I don’t think they’ll try that again,” Stiles whispers, then kisses Derek’s shoulder. “It’s not what they want. They want me healthy and able to carry the baby. Claws through my stomach is not something they need.”

Derek shudders, but he pulls Stiles’ arm tighter around him, then says, “I won’t let them hurt you.” 

They both know it’s an empty promise, but it still makes Stiles feel better. Derek is and will always be his hero. 

After lying there for a few more minutes, Stiles sits up, takes the glass, and taps Derek’s shoulder. Derek turns around, finally looking Stiles in the eyes. “Drink this,” Stiles says, smiling. “It’ll make you feel better.”

Their captors could take away his magic, but they can’t take away Derek’s. It’ll work if Stiles pushes it a little. 

Derek drinks the water, grimacing because of the taste, but it all goes down his throat, and Stiles is happy. The cavalry will come to their rescue before any knotting or breeding happens. He’s sure of that, has to be.

Stiles puts his palm against Derek’s heart and wills his magic to work for him, work for them, makes his entire being breathe and smell and taste only one thing: _Feel us, know where we are, see us on the map._ He repeats it over and over again, willing Scott to hear him. It’s everything he can do; his best effort, and he hopes it’s enough.

He helps Derek on the destroyed bed afterwards, curling next to him, beyond exhausted.

The incident seems to have scared their captors enough to give them a few extra days to recover, and it makes Stiles wonder if they have a specific moon cycle in mind for the baby-making. Maybe they are not in as much hurry as Stiles thought earlier. 

Derek is utterly lost with him, and the amount of hovering and pampering and groveling he does makes Stiles uncomfortable and worried. Derek is losing his shit, and it’s not a good thing for the next time Stiles is out of it and burning with lust. 

He goes to the shower to get away from his thoughts, to get away from this mess they are in. He’s always found comfort in the warmth of the shower, and that happens even in this hell hole. 

Stiles has his eyes closed, the water cascading down his back, when the door to the bathroom opens and Derek comes in. 

It doesn’t startle Stiles because it has happened before. Derek often comes to get something from the bathroom while Stiles showers, and he has done it in the real world, too. Derek has very little sense of private space, and Stiles thinks it’s because he was born into a pack. 

What startles him is the fact that Derek pulls the shower curtain aside, steps in and just waits quietly, standing still like a tree.

When Derek doesn’t say anything Stiles opens his eyes and turns around, slightly fretting over this new development. “What is it?” he asks, keeping his voice soft. 

Derek just looks at him, then leans close, his cheek brushing against Stiles’. It’s far from anything sexual, and seems to be all about comfort, about control, about trusting each other. It’s instinctive, something Derek needs, and Stiles lets it happen.

He breathes quietly as Derek scent marks him, brushes his fingers over Stiles’ sides, slides his nose down Stiles’ neck, bites and licks the skin there, and when Derek is done, Stiles wraps his arms around him, holding him close. This is them. They have each other here, and they can do this. They can survive anything. 

Derek is being so utterly gentle with Stiles it’s more intimate than anything that’s happened so far, and somehow, it repairs the connection between them. 

He feels content for the first time after they’ve been captured, and the effortless way Derek stays close makes everything so much easier. 

“Thank you,” Stiles says, burying his nose in Derek’s neck. He needed this more than he could ever explain. 

Derek makes a low sound, but it’s not close to any word Stiles knows. 

“Thank you,” Stiles repeats because it seems to be the only right thing to say. Derek is doing something right.


	4. Chapter 4

_The course of true love never did run smooth._  
\- William Shakespeare -

 

Stiles experimented at college. He knows he’s not entirely straight, but he’s not entirely bi either. He’s just happy-to-be-a-sexual-being, enjoying whoever he finds interesting. Usually his mind has to be stimulated for him to feel any desire to have sex with someone, and his mind likes intelligence. It also seems to like quiet, loyal and fierce if anything can be read from his infatuation with Derek.

After high school, his secret crush hasn’t really been that secret, but sadly it has always been something that will never happen because Derek has more issues than Stiles can even imagine, and Stiles is super-talented at imagining things. 

It’s not that Stiles minds the issues; it’s Derek who has a problem with relationships and actually having them. Two of his former girlfriends were murdering psychopaths. So there’s that.

Besides, Derek has never made it clear what he thinks of Stiles. It could be just platonic brotherly love and some deeply coded attraction. Yet, Stiles has never seen Derek sniff Isaac the way he sniffs Stiles. 

There’s something about the way Derek lingers in Stiles’ space. When they occupy the same room there’s always something underneath, something bubbling. It can’t only be in Stiles’ head. He can’t be that delusional. 

“You’re thinking too much,” Derek says, reading yet again. They are sitting at the kitchen table, eating dinner. 

“I can’t shut off my brain,” Stiles mutters between bites. 

“It’s distracting.” 

“Hah!” Stiles has no idea what to say. He wonders how well Derek can read his heartbeats. 

Then, Derek does the unthinkable and leans over the table, over their food, his palms on top of the table, and he sniffs Stiles’ skin behind his ear. Small fucking table. Stiles can barely breathe. “Stop thinking,” Derek growls in his ear, soft and hypnotizing, and that’s just it, Stiles is doomed. He stops thinking, though. 

The moment ends before anything happens, and Derek sits down, smirking. 

Stiles’ mind is pleasantly quiet. 

They stay silent after that, but Stiles keeps Derek close because he feels more solid that way. 

Stiles gets taken an hour after their dinner, and he honestly can’t stop himself from vomiting on that table. They make him drink something again, and to say it’s disgusting is a wild understatement. He hopes it doesn’t affect him because most of it is gone from his body in mere minutes. 

Redhead at least admits that they were wrong about meddling with Derek’s wolfy instincts and fucking _apologizes_. It’s like they are buddies now. 

Stiles wants to pull her fingernails off one by one. 

They roll him back after at least twenty minutes of doing different kinds of tests, and Stiles can already feel the effects of the damn potion. He’s never lucky. 

Derek is in his corner, the guns pointing at him, and Stiles is happy to see him there, happy that he wasn’t taken, happy that their captors listened to him. Derek should never go through any kind of torture ever again. If Stiles can stop that, he will. He’ll do anything. 

Once they are alone in their room, Derek stalks closer to the table, breathing through his mouth, like he doesn’t want to know how Stiles smells this time. “Are you okay?” Derek says, and he’s so quiet it’s eery. Derek is wearing his usual sweatpants and T-shirt and no socks, and he looks beautiful, a little heartbreaking too, and Stiles wonders how much of that is the drugs speaking. He hopes none. He hopes his feelings are his. He can’t deal with the real world if nothing is real here now. 

“Don’t be sad,” Derek says, and Stiles bites his lip because of his betraying heartbeat. Or maybe he just smells sad, maybe Derek is breathing him in now. 

“I’m going to be horny in two seconds.” He lets out a bitter laugh, and Derek looks at him, looks into his eyes and nods, doesn’t seem to be fazed by any of it. Instead, Derek frees Stiles slowly, then gets him on his feet, and pulls him into a hug.

“I’ve been thinking,” Derek says, casual as hell. “Please fuck me.”

Stiles’ breath catches, a small choked sound escaping him, and then he feels lightheaded because every drop of blood in his body rushes south.

“It’s not the perfect solution,” Derek says, nuzzling Stiles’ neck, “but it’s something, and I want… I need to be connected to you.”

If Derek weren’t holding Stiles, he’d fall on his ass. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah… Just be gentle with me.” 

Stiles can feel Derek’s smirk against his skin, and it makes him laugh. Their situation is so fucked up, but Derek is his quiet hero who gets one bright idea after another. Stiles holds him closer, clings to Derek as hard as he can. “Okay. Okay… You might have to do all the work though.” He bites Derek’s neck because of the wave of lust, because he can’t control his body, because the drugs are altering his center of gravity, and he can’t hold onto anything but Derek. 

“We’ll see.” Derek walks Stiles towards the bed, and Stiles realizes his feet aren’t touching the ground. He’s standing on Derek’s feet. 

He looks at Derek, his fingers in Derek’s hair. “We’re never telling anyone about this.”

“You might need therapy,” Derek says gently, and Stiles just gapes at him with his mouth open.

“Says he who barely speaks to anyone about anything,” he finally says when Derek carefully sets him down on the bed and starts taking off his own clothes. Stiles follows Derek’s lead, getting rid of his long-sleeved T-shirt and sweatpants, watching Derek the entire time. This feels somehow different. He’s not so out of it. 

Derek stands in front of Stiles in his boxers, staring down at him. “I never found anyone who could listen.”

Stiles bites his lower lip because his words are gone. He extends his hand, holds it palm up, hoping that Derek will take it. 

When Derek does, it’s both shocking and perfectly natural. Stiles can’t breathe because Derek is still staring. 

“I’ve always been fascinated by your mouth,” Derek says, pushing Stiles down on the bed and straddling his hips. Stiles goes down easily. “And not just because you say fascinating things.”

“Are you trying to woo me... because it’s not necessary.” Stiles means to joke, but he mainly sounds scared. Scared of what? He has no idea. 

Derek leans close, whispers in his ear, “I’m trying to distract myself from the way you smell.”

And forever curious, Stiles asks, “Why?” tilting his head to the side, asking for more. 

“Because the wolf is possessive, protective… because it wants.” Derek bites Stiles’ earlobe. “You smell like good memories.”

Stiles arches up, his crotch rubbing against Derek’s and it’s perfect, it makes him want to be naked. “What do good memories smell like?” He has to keep talking because it helps him stay focused. He doesn’t want to be a zombie for this. He wants to feel and taste everything. He wants to be there when he enters Derek’s body. He wants to know what he’s doing. 

Derek sits back up, his hands on Stiles’ bare chest, his fingers close to Stiles’ nipples. He starts moving his hips very slowly, and that tiny movement makes Stiles see stars. He starts losing himself, but when Derek speaks again, it helps him reconnect. “They smell like hope.”

Stiles looks into Derek’s eyes, fighting back tears all of a sudden, and it’s so fucking unfair he can’t deal for a second. 

Derek puts a hand on Stiles’ throat and says, “Breathe.”

The panic subsides in seconds and leaves a pleasant buzz under his skin right where Derek is almost choking him. Stiles is so grateful he hums. 

Derek smiles. “Good boy.”

And that makes Stiles wonder if Derek is into BDSM. He makes a mental note for himself that he needs to do research about it when he gets home. 

In any case, that changes something, makes Stiles completely relaxed because he feels safe, because he trusts Derek. Somehow it works, and Derek is so pliant, letting Stiles do anything he wants, and oh god, does he want. 

He takes his time with opening Derek up, keeping him face down on the mattress, rubbing Derek’s prostate with his long fingers, which Derek seems to love. The noises Derek makes drive Stiles crazy, and the way he moves is breathtaking. 

Derek tears the sheets with his claws, bites the pillow with his sharp, sharp teeth, and lets Stiles push into his body, so very slowly. 

He’s whispering stupid nonsense in Derek’s ear because he doesn’t want _the others_ to hear them, because he wants to let Derek know how much he appreciates this, everything Derek’s ever done to and for him. 

It’s mind blowing when he’s balls deep and shaking, and he takes Derek’s hands, claws and all, and holds onto them when he starts moving, when he fucks into Derek and spreads his legs even further because he can. He bites the back of Derek’s neck, and the growl Derek lets out vibrates between them.

Stiles bites harder, moves faster, wanting to take Derek with him over the edge. He frees Derek’s right hand and pushes his own between the mattress and Derek’s body, lifts him up enough to wrap a hand around his cock, to jerk him off in time with his thrusts. And it does happen at the same time, Derek whining and Stiles groaning against Derek’s skin, feeling boneless and utterly satisfied, his cock still deep inside Derek, spurting come into him. It’s something he never ever dared to even think about, yet it’s happening right now, and it makes him rub his cheek against Derek’s back, over the tattoo. He loves this person, has loved him for a while now, longer than he realized. 

“Gentle enough?” he asks, his voice hoarse. 

Derek makes an agreeing sound.

“I love--d this.” Stiles licks Derek’s back, moves a little to see how it feels to sink deeper into Derek now that they’ve both come. Derek is relaxed, his body there for Stiles to use and abuse. Stiles could do it right away, he’s so full of drugs, but he doesn’t want to because Derek looks so blissed out he’s almost vulnerable. 

“...am dead…” Derek mutters, and Stiles smiles. Derek has turned his face to the side, his eyes still closed. It’s the most beautiful thing Stiles has ever seen. 

“Let’s go to the shower,” Stiles says after a while. “I promise to clean you up.”

“My dick needs cleaning up.” 

“Hahahah, you’re so funny.” Stiles bites Derek’s shoulder blade and Derek yelps, twisting under Stiles. They wrestle for a short moment, Stiles slipping out of Derek and ending up underneath him, his hands above his head and Derek holding his wrists. 

They stare at each other, and then very tentatively, Derek kisses Stiles. It’s never happened before, not like this, and it’s beyond anything he could’ve imagined. It’s a short chaste kiss, but it’s all about honest feelings. 

“Yeah,” Derek whispers, and Stiles knows what he means. It’s never been just his imagination. It’s real, and it’s happening now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait. My life has been a little hectic with 50-hour-work-weeks and university and having to make the plans for fixing the roof and all, but it's getting a bit easier again. I hope you enjoyed this one. The chapter means a lot to me.
> 
> The lovely @leela_cat came to my rescue when my darling beta, @aislinntlc wasn't available. She did excellent job with it, and so quickly too. :) I'm one crazy writer-lady. TGIF, I guess.


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles is starting to wonder if Scott will ever find them. It’s been a week since he sent the message through Derek to Scott, and they haven’t heard from the pack yet. Maybe they are so deep underground, no magic can penetrate the walls. 

Derek is getting antsy, pacing around more than before, and Stiles knows it’s because he never stays inside this long. Derek is always either running or driving, going places, changing scenery because staying in one place means he has to be quiet with his own thoughts. Derek is such a good liar. It’s easy to think he’s fine, when he’s the exact opposite. Derek, the zen monk. 

They train a lot because even though Stiles has asked for something to do they haven’t received any cards or crossword puzzles. So Derek puts him through hell every day, makes him do push ups and jumping jacks and squats and whatever comes to Derek’s evil twisted mind. They are always sweaty and out of breath afterwards, and then they shower together because it feels good. 

When there are no drugs involved, nothing happens, except in the shower. There they kiss. Derek also scent marks him every available moment, and Stiles is so used to it now, he kind of expects it to happen and gets disappointed if it doesn’t. 

They haven’t talked about the weird confession that happened after their last drug induced sex session, but it changed everything. Stiles just knows he’s Derek’s now and he wouldn’t be surprised if Derek claimed him after they get out of here. And Stiles, he has no idea how to deal with this new development. A werewolf owns his heart, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be good enough not to mess it up.

At least he can’t be as bad as Derek’s previous relationship attempts. 

Stiles is dreading the next time their captors come for him because he doesn’t know how long they can keep avoiding the inevitable. As the time ticks by, it’s becoming clearer that Redhead will find the right mix. She’ll have enough time to figure it out, and Stiles can do nothing about it. 

He looks at Derek who’s lying on his back on the bed, his hands behind his head and his eyes closed. Stiles sighs. “You know what?”

Derek opens his eyes. “What?”

“If I have to... you’re the only one with whom I can do this.” 

Derek smiles, but his eyes stay worried.

“I can’t… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to get us out of here. I don’t know anything. I’m failing you.” Stiles has been walking around the room, and now he just stops because there’s nowhere to go. Nothing, fucking nothing for him to do. 

Derek is by his side in seconds, pulling him into a hug, but Stiles pushes him away, takes a few steps back. Frustration and despair are eating him alive, and he doesn’t have the tools to fix it. He has nothing. “Don’t. I can’t.” 

“Hey,” Derek whispers, keeping his hands to himself this time. “You’re doing fine. You’ve kept yourself together. We’re going to survive this.”

Stiles is hiding from Derek’s gaze, looking at the floor instead, his whole body screaming at him to fight or flight. “Fuck.” 

“You’ve been amazing,” Derek says softly, and Stiles can’t deal with soft at all. “The things they put you through… It’s not your fault. You’re doing everything you can, and you’re doing it so well. Don’t give up, please. Please?”

“What am I doing?” he all but screams, finally looking at Derek. “What the fuck am I doing? Nothing! I’ve solved so many problems before. Why can’t I solve this one?”

Derek is quiet for a moment, then says, “Maybe it’s not yours to solve.”

Stiles growls, rage making him attack Derek, and Derek takes it, not trying to stop him, just protecting himself enough to keep Stiles’ rage at bay. When Stiles can’t hold himself up anymore Derek lifts him in his arms and carries him to bed. 

Everything is numbness after that, and Stiles is grateful for it. He doesn’t want to feel. He doesn’t want to know the shame of hurting Derek. He just wants to sleep and not wake up. 

Derek holds him through the numbness, keeps stroking Stiles’ arm and side, and Stiles starts to relax despite everything. “Sorry,” he mumbles before falling asleep. He hopes Derek can forgive him. 

His awakening is violent and his heart is beating a mile a minute in seconds. 

Derek is growling, crouching over Stiles on the bed, and the guns are pointing at Derek. Before Stiles can do anything, Derek jumps at the first one, tearing it to pieces, but the second is already shooting wolfsbane bullets into him. 

Stiles screams, getting up and running to Derek’s side, protecting his body with his own. Derek is whining, but at least it means he’s still alive. “Don’t hurt him,” he yells at their captors. 

“If you want to save him come with us peacefully,” a voice says, and Stiles wonders how many cameras are spying on them now. 

“Only if you treat him right away.” Stiles looks at Derek’s back and sees two black bullet holes. The poison is already spreading, “Now!”

“Alright, I’m sending two people over.”

After a mere minute, the door to their prison opens and two doctor-looking men walk in. Stiles gives them space to work with Derek, lets them burn the wolfsbane powder in a bowl and apply it to Derek’s wounds. Once he sees that the wounds are healing he takes a step closer to the door and waits for Redhead and Eyepatch to come and get him. 

And they do.

Stiles endures it all, thinking about Derek and if he’s still weak and hurting. He goes to a quiet space in his mind, trying not to acknowledge the real world because his world at the moment sucks balls, and he doesn’t have the strength to take it. 

It’s the longest time they’ve kept him and Derek separate, and when they finally take him back, Stiles is scared. 

Derek is not in the room, and Redhead doesn’t answer him when he asks where they’ve taken him; instead she sedates him, and then with the help of Eyepatch gets him on the bed. 

Stiles is half out of it, half awake, but when they start undressing him he tries to fight back. His body is not listening to him, though, and all he can do is panic. 

They get him naked, and then push him on his stomach, and pull his arms wide apart before cuffing his wrists to the bed. 

Stiles screams at them, tries to free himself, but it’s futile. His legs suffer the same fate as his arms did, and soon, he’s completely bound. “You can’t leave me like this,” he yells, barely able to form the words, but they are not listening. Redhead puts a new bottle of lube on the bedside table, and then they are leaving, and Stiles is still tied to the fucking bed. 

He’s already feeling the first wave of lust clouding his mind, and it means he won’t be able to do anything to stop this from happening. 

“Oh god,” he whines against the pillow, his head swimming in toxins. He has to rub himself against the mattress because it’s the only thing that relieves the ache, and it’s so fucking humiliating. 

He bites his lips, clenches his hands into fists, and hopes Derek is not drugged, too. 

Then he hears the trapdoor opening and Derek being dropped into the room. His heart picks up speed, becomes an irregular drum beat in his ears. Fuck his life. 

“Stiles?” Derek sounds human, sounds like he’s in control, and Stiles breathes in quickly, then out, trying to calm the fuck down. 

“I need you to…” Stiles groans, his whole body burning, responding to Derek’s presence in the room. He pulls at the cuffs, wants to break free. “Don’t listen to me. I’m going to beg. Don’t do anything.” He wonders if his words come out in the right order, if he’s saying what he means. 

Derek is right there on the bed, touching Stiles’ back, his sweaty body that moves under Derek’s hand, arches up and then thrusts down because it feels too good. “Stiles?” he sounds so confused. 

“Yeah, I’m not… I can’t… Please.” He bites the pillow, leaking precome, so ready to be fucked it’s insane. He wants it more than anything. “Please, fucking please, please do it.”

Derek strokes Stiles’ back, his fingers sliding between Stiles’ legs, massaging his balls, and it’s nowhere near enough. Stiles moans, his body moving in rhythm with Derek’s hand. He needs so much more. He needs everything. 

Derek lies down next to him, his body covering most of Stiles’, and he bites Stiles’ arm, his back, licks the bitemarks, then bites him again.

Stiles keens, writhes with Derek, wants Derek’s fingers in him. “Please, I need you in me.”

Derek reaches for the lube, drops the bottle, curses, then gets it open and pours too much of it everywhere. It doesn’t matter because his wet fingers are pressing against Stiles’ entrance, and Stiles throws his head back, crying out. Derek starts with two fingers because Stiles is so relaxed he can fit them in easily. 

It’s maddening, and Stiles pushes back as much as he can, makes sure Derek goes as deep as his fingers reach, to the knuckle. He wants to feel full, he wants to be wrecked, wants Derek to knot him. 

“Oh god, I can’t let you do that,” Stiles says, then lets out a long groan because Derek rubs his prostate, gives him a third finger and makes Stiles feel like he could take a fist. He’s so on edge he can’t think straight. “Please, Derek.”

Derek bites Stiles’ neck, keeps his fingers still, then pushes two fingers inside Stiles’ mouth, and that has Stiles shaking apart, coming in Derek’s hands, and he would scream if Derek hadn’t stuffed his mouth full.

Instead of stopping, Derek holds him there for a while, then starts moving his fingers again, fucking Stiles’ mouth and ass with them. Stiles loses all sense of time because it doesn’t stop, Derek licking and biting him, making him come again like this. It’s too much, and still, Stiles needs more. 

When Derek finally pulls his fingers out, Stiles collapses on the bed, exhausted. 

It’s not over, though.

Derek moves lower until he’s between Stiles’ legs, spreading Stiles’ hole open with his thumbs, _looking_ , and Stiles pulls at the restraints, lost in sensation. 

Then he feels Derek’s tongue tentatively touching his hole. Stiles chokes on a sound, but stays still because Derek doesn’t let him move, just holds Stiles against the mattress, pushing his tongue deep, then licking around his hole again. 

“Please, Derek…” Stiles wishes he could make Derek do more, but all he gets is a wide lick over his balls and up to his hole and even to the small of his back. Derek is eating him out and being way too thorough with him, sucking and licking and even biting him. 

Stiles is shaking, begging, spouting nonsense. He needs Derek to fuck him, and he thinks he’s said it at least five times already. 

Then he feels Derek lining up, his cockhead almost pushing in, and Stiles begs with everything he has, his body so ready, wanting, needing. “Fuck me,” he whispers, eyes squeezed close. Derek moves over him, almost there, but then after a short moment of stillness, Derek sits up again, and Stiles can hear him jerking off. He feels Derek shoot on his back and ass and then spread it all over his skin, even over his hole. It’s so unfair, so not what he needs right now, and he lets out an annoyed scream, unleashing his frustration at Derek. 

Derek leans over him, puts his whole body weight on top of Stiles, and starts jerking Stiles off, saying in his ear, “You have no idea how much I want to, even now. I might. I still might, so be quiet and take what you can.”

Stiles comes almost dry, hurting a little, but mostly he’s just beyond satisfied, Derek’s heavy weight on top of him the best thing that’s ever happened to him. 

Derek releases Stiles cock and brings the hand close to his own mouth, licking his fingers clean. Then he traces Stiles’ mouth with the same fingers, pushes his forefinger between Stiles’ lips and hums happily in Stiles’ ear. 

Stiles is deeply satisfied, and right now, he doesn’t want to care what’s happening to them. He wants to be here, worshipped by Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a gift since I was a bit late with the fourth chapter. I try to post weekly. I can't always do it, but I'm trying my best with my busy schedule. @aislinntlc is back as my beta. :) She kind of rules my writerly universe.


	6. Chapter 6

The afterglow doesn’t last long because Stiles’ wrists and ankles are hurting and he feels cold despite Derek lying on top of him. 

“You need to get me free,” Stiles finally says while listening to Derek breathe. 

Derek nods, his chin digging into Stiles’ shoulder. Then he tries to break the chains, and when that doesn’t work, he tries to break the entire bed. Both seem to be werewolf-proof. 

“I hate them,” Derek mutters close to Stiles’ ear, and Stiles wholeheartedly agrees. 

They are quiet for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to do, and then there’s an odd sound coming from nearby the door. It startles them both, making them glance at the direction of the noise.

“What was that?” Stiles asks. 

Derek gets up, carefully stroking Stiles’ back before he goes to investigate what’s going on. Stiles strains his neck, tries to see what Derek is doing, but there’s too much in the way. “What is it?” he asks again, getting anxious. 

“A key,” Derek says softly. “They dropped it through the mailbox.”

“We have a mailbox?” Stiles asks, then sighs because Derek rubs his shoulder and arm before freeing his right wrist. Stiles pulls his hand close to his chest, only then realizing how much his shoulders ache too. He’s nothing but ache. 

“Well… It is a tiny home,” Derek says, and Stiles wonders how much of that isn’t a joke. Derek has lived in strange places over the years, and the sad thing is this is an upgrade compared to many of them. 

Once he’s free, he wraps his naked body around Derek’s, not caring that they are sticky with come and sweat and lube. He wants to be close to Derek, the awesome person who has more restraint than anyone else Stiles knows. “I kind of love you,” Stiles whispers before he can even think what he’s saying.

Derek buries his face in Stiles’ neck, keeps most of his weight on his arms and legs, not suffocating Stiles even though they are completely wrapped in each other. “I know,” Derek says softly, and that is not what Stiles expected at all. 

“What? You know?”

“Yeah, you’re a bad liar.” Derek bites Stiles’ throat with blunt teeth. 

“I’ve never lied to you about this…” Stiles is so freaking confused. 

Derek snorts, but it’s a soft teasing sound, nothing else. “No, but you’re equally bad at keeping secrets.”

“I’ve kept tons of secrets,” Stiles says, indignant. 

“Not from me.”

That is possible. “So...” Stiles breathes in. “You just know?”

Derek lifts his head, his unruly hair calling for Stiles’ fingers. Derek’s eyes are bright blue. “I love you back?”

“Why is there a question mark at the end of that?” Stiles bites his lip, suddenly insecure. 

“Because I don’t know what you want to hear.” Derek’s smile is shy, and Stiles can’t deal, can’t at all. “Here. Now. I don’t want you to think it’s because of this.”

Stiles just stares. 

“So if I tell you I love you, I want you to believe it.”

“You’re… Don’t… Oh my god, you love me? Since when? Why? Oh my god…”

Derek kisses him silent, then pulls back again. “Since summer break on your second year of college.”

“What? Did I do something? I don’t… I didn’t mean to do anything.”

“Are you apologizing for making me fall for you?” A smile is tugging at Derek’s lips again. 

“Yeah… No. I don’t know. Should I? I feel like I should… Why me?” Stiles points at his own temple. “I’m crazy.”

“Remember when you came to the loft, drunk and crying, telling me your girlfriend had left you?” Derek puts his fingers through Stiles’ hair, his thumb rubbing Stiles’ forehead. 

Stiles nods, dumbfounded. 

“You drank my booze. You passed out on my bed. And you smelled so good, so familiar. I wanted you to stay.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Stiles heart aches in his chest. Derek is an idiot. 

“Because you were heartbroken, and you never dated guys.”

Stiles lets out a weird laugh. “Of course I didn’t date any guys. None of them compared to you.” 

It’s Derek’s turn to look dumbfounded. 

“Yeah… It’s always been there… This… You and me.” Stiles has no idea what he’s saying anymore. Derek is just looking at him, and it’s nerve-wrecking because they are having the most important conversation ever. And of course it’s utterly ridiculous, just like them. “So you love me? You really love me?”

Derek nods. 

“We’re so surviving this hell hole,” Stiles whispers, then pulls Derek’s face against his neck. “I’m keeping you, okay?”

Derek growl-whines, covering every inch of Stiles with his own body, cradling Stiles’ head with his arms. “Okay.”

Stiles doesn’t know how it happens, but Derek ends up biting him, his teeth sinking in, drawing blood, and it makes no sense how Stiles reacts. He goes absolutely still, his body humming, vibrating, like he’s making a sound only Derek can hear, and it’s magic, his magic returning to him.

Derek claws at the bed, sinks his fingers into the mattress, holds on, his body rigid. 

There are no words, nothing coming out of Stiles’ mouth because something is shifting between them, and it’s more than any drugs could ever create. It’s an ancient bond, and Derek has unintentionally triggered it. 

Stiles spreads his legs wide, wraps them around Derek, and guides him, makes Derek move with him. It’s perfect in every way, Derek’s mouth against his neck, Derek’s skin under his fingertips, and Derek entering him, pushing in so easily. Stiles is ready, his body feeling like it’s combined with magic, and he’s missed the feeling, missed the warm glow under his skin. 

Derek groans, thrusting into him, slowly like there’s never been any reason to run. Stiles tilts his head back, feels Derek’s teeth sink deeper, make the connection stronger, and he digs his nails into Derek’s back, tears at the flesh, holds on as hard as he can. 

Derek lets go of Stiles’ neck, kisses his throat, and then takes his hands and keeps them on either side of Stiles’ head, staring at him, his eyes flashing blue. 

It’s happening, and there’s absolutely nothing Stiles wants to do to stop it because Derek is his, and they are connected by magic. Derek gave it back to him. 

“Stiles?” Derek moves even slower than before, almost stopping. “Stiles, talk to me.”

Stiles swallows around the feelings, tries to concentrate on something other than the hum of his magic and Derek inside him. He can’t. He can barely keep his eyes open. 

Derek bites Stiles’ chin, demanding some of his focus to return, and Stiles arches like a bow, letting out a gasp, a sound, maybe a word. He doesn’t know because Derek feels too good, and he can’t concentrate on mundane things.

Then Derek stills, strokes Stiles’ cheek, and flips them over, careful not to slip out of Stiles. Derek is almost sitting against the pillows, and Stiles is in his lap, his hands on Derek’s shoulders. 

He’s never done this before, not like this. He doesn’t care how open and vulnerable it makes him because Derek is looking at him like he’s made of silk and dreams. Derek holds onto his waist, helps him move, guides the rhythm, keeps it so slow it’s agonizing. A part of Stiles knows that someone is watching, but he doesn’t care because his magic will protect them. 

Derek makes him stop, keeps him there, filled and wanting, his mouth open, a silent plea on his lips. When Derek lets him move again it’s impossibly gentle and quiet, Stiles biting his lip and Derek’s eyes focused on the pulse point on Stiles’ neck. There’s blood there, Derek’s doing, marks that won’t ever fade. That makes Stiles want to move faster, harder, but Derek won’t let him. 

The strong fingers against his skin are digging in, marking him too, and Stiles can barely take all of it in, can barely breathe through it. 

“Stiles…”

He makes an effort to look at Derek. 

“I’m going to knot you… I can’t… Stiles…”

He presses down, takes all of Derek in, and stays there, squeezes with his muscles, and Derek’s eyes go wide, his arms tensing. 

“Please,” Stiles breathes out. “Please.”

And it’s enough. Derek swells inside him, ties them together, makes Stiles’ vision blur because it’s both incredible and impossible. He doesn’t know if he can take it; nothing prepared him for this. 

Derek’s hands around his waist hold him still even though he wouldn’t be going anywhere anyway, but those hands ground him, and Stiles lets out a surprised laugh. He can’t believe this is happening to him. “We did it,” he says, and he doesn’t know if he’s shocked or disappointed or nothing at all but surprised. 

He can’t hold onto the thoughts, though, because Derek is filling him, pumping him full, and he can _feel_ it. 

Stiles collapses on top of Derek, panting against his chest. “God… Oh my god.”

Derek groans, still coming, his entire body jerking in steady intervals. 

When the most intense part is over Stiles just lies there, not thinking, not wanting to question anything, just needing to be close. 

Derek wraps his arms around Stiles, holds him tight. 

“This might be it,” Stiles whispers, and Derek makes a desperate sound. 

They are still tied together, and Stiles is starting to ache. He hasn’t even come yet, and he doesn’t know if he would survive it if he did. It’s already too much. 

Derek slides his hand down Stiles’ back to where they are connected, and he covers them with his palm, his fingers brushing Stiles’ stretched hole. Stiles is too sensitive, and he keens, breathes in, then exhales slowly, trying to gain some sense of his surroundings. 

“I want you to come, Stiles,” Derek says, then bites Stiles ear. “I want you to come on the knot, from my words only.”

It’s shocking how the sound of Derek’s voice affects him, how it makes him listen, makes his body sing. 

“I want you to think about how you look right now, stretched around me, leaking come even though I’m trying to keep it all in.”

Stiles groans, rolls his hips, his cock rubbing against their stomachs. 

“Think about how warm and wet you are, how much I want to stay inside you, how much I want to do this again. I just want to fill you up until you can’t take it, until it’s too much and your stomach is taut. I want you to be so full of my come, Stiles. Please…”

He can’t seem to breathe through the thoughts, can’t keep his eyes open for Derek. All he can think about is Derek inside him, still filling him up, Derek who wants to do it again and again. Derek who’s warm and strong and his. 

Stiles cries out, his body tensing, his cock pulsing between them, making them wet. He’s exhausted through his orgasm, and when it’s over he passes out for a short while, coming around to Derek speaking to him softly, stroking his back, saying things like _you did good, Stiles_ and _I’m never letting you go_. Stiles is too happy to answer, but he smiles, patting Derek’s cheek and kissing his nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost weekly updates. :P I hope you like this one, but honestly, I'm not even writing this story. It writes itself, and I can just put the words on paper just as they are. <3 Thank you for reading and commenting and liking it so far. It means a lot to me. 
> 
> @aislinntlc is such a sweetheart for putting up with me. :P Still betaing and I can sometimes even wait for it. :)


	7. Chapter 7

After a thorough examination of Stiles, their captors leave them alone for at least two weeks. Stiles is trying to keep track of their stay in captivity, but he’s sure he’s missed days. It’s been over a month now, though, and he’s starting to wonder if Scott and the others are held captive, too. That would explain everything. 

Stiles has been masking his magic ever since Derek released it inside him, but there has been no opportunity to use it. He was unconscious most of the time when they examined him, and the cell itself leaves very little room for magic because it blocks it somehow. 

The constant surveillance is one of the biggest reasons Stiles hasn’t tried anything, but even bigger issue is that he knows nothing about the people who are holding them. He has no idea how big the place itself is, or if they have an army protecting their experiments. 

They get food delivered and their laundry gets taken away, but that’s all the contact they’ve had with their captors ever since the knotting. 

Stiles has no way of knowing if it happened, if he got pregnant from that one time because he doesn’t feel any different. He has no morning sickness, no swelling, no funny feelings, and Derek doesn’t sense anything. He’s still hoping it didn’t happen, but the way they’ve been left alone speaks against it. If they got what they wanted all they need to do is wait now, and that’s exactly what is happening. 

“I don’t get why I’m still here,” Derek says all of a sudden while doing pushups. 

Stiles is standing near him, stretching his triceps. They’ve been training for a while now. “I don’t know. The possibility of miscarriage? My being more calm if you’re here? I don’t know what they want when it’s all over. Maybe they want more.”

Derek stops, looks up, lying on his stomach. “That would mean years.”

“Yeah…” Stiles is not going to do it. He’s going to get them out or die trying. He’s not giving them a baby. 

“Can they speed up the process?” Derek asks, standing, putting his hand on Stiles’ shoulder. 

“I think so. The shots they’ve been giving me, and the magic they’ve used have been changing my body. I don’t see why they couldn’t make it happen faster.”

Derek puts his hand on Stiles stomach. “Nothing yet?”

Stiles shakes his head. 

Derek pulls him into a hug, and Stiles puts his arms around Derek’s neck, holding tight. It all seems so unfair, especially since they’ve finally found something good and it’s tainted by their situation. “I hate this,” Stiles whispers. 

Derek doesn’t say anything, but Stiles can feel Derek’s anger and frustration. “Something good will come out of this.”

Stiles wants to believe him.

Another quiet, crazy, awful two weeks go by, and Stiles starts to feel odd. What adds to the oddness is Derek going crazy, wrapping himself around Stiles every time there’s a chance for it and growling at the trapdoor whenever they get food delivered. Derek is also making sure Stiles gets enough to eat, that his pillows are soft, and his showers warm enough. 

There’s no doubt anymore, and Stiles wants to shoot people. 

Then the day comes when it’s visibly clear that he’s expecting, and it’s happening too fast so it’s obvious they’ve tampered with everything. He looks like he’s halfway through the pregnancy already, and that’s not normal. Nothing of this is normal. 

He thinks about his dad, and how he’s ever going to explain this to him. He thinks about his comfortable life, having his own apartment, all the research he’s been doing, his friends, and the supernatural fights they’ve had over the years. There is no room for a baby there, and he’s only twenty-five. He’s not ready, and he sure as hell never thought he’d be the one to carry a child. 

Stiles can’t take this anymore. He makes a plan, which he explains to Derek in the shower, whispering in his ear, the water beating down their backs. He hopes it’s enough to cover the sound of his voice from the cameras, and it seems so because their captors don’t react. 

Not until Stiles wants them to. 

They are sitting at the kitchen table, eating curry, when Stiles doubles over, panting and clutching his stomach, crying out. Derek is immediately by his side, asking what’s wrong. 

“I’m fine. I’m good,” Stiles says, then cries out again. He takes hold of Derek’s arm, digs his fingers in. “It’s possible I’m not alright.”

Derek growls, looking up. “Help him. There’s something wrong.”

“No, I don’t want to go,” Stiles croaks, but Derek ignores him, negotiating with their captors. 

“We’ll be good,” he says, pulling Stiles closer. “Just please, check him out.”

 _Does he have a fever?_ the voice says, and Stiles hides his face in Derek’s chest, like he’s resigned to his fate. 

“No, it’s just the pain.”

Stiles screams then, curling in Derek’s arms, fighting back tears. 

_Go to your corner,_ the voice says. _We’ll come and get him._

Derek kisses Stiles’ forehead, then lets him go, lingering. He walks to the corner where the wolfsbane guns always herd him, and stays there until Redhead comes in with the all too familiar metal table and two of her lackeys and takes Stiles away. 

She’s asking a lot of questions: “Where does it hurt exactly? Have you been feeling any pain before? Is the pain constant or sporadic? Are you able to breathe deep?” 

Stiles answers the best he can as they are rolling him back to the examination room. 

Redhead connects Stiles to monitors, then brings in the ultrasound, applies the gel on Stiles’ stomach, and uses the probe to try to locate the baby inside Stiles. 

For a moment, Stiles can’t concentrate on what he’s about to do because he can see the baby on the screen.

“The baby is fine,” Redhead says, smiling, and Stiles can’t help smiling back. It’s one of the worst moments of his life, and he’s smiling at the person who’s responsible. 

When she turns her back to Stiles, he takes a deep breath and does two complicated spells at the same time. He hides in plain sight, masquerading as a weak mage without his magic and sending his mind to the far corners of the facility where they are being held. 

The amount of power he needs to do that surprises him, makes him writhe on the table, makes a choked scream get stuck in his throat, makes him almost lose his consciousness. Redhead looks at him with scared eyes, checking the baby again, trying to figure out what’s making him scream in pain. 

The horrible truth is, Stiles can’t reach the end. The place is too wide, too massive for his brain to handle, and he has to pull back so he doesn’t get torn apart. The skin of his hands is stretched thin and breaking already, his eyes bleeding. 

“God,” she whispers, clearly overwhelmed by what’s happening to Stiles and what is causing it. 

He breathes in, thinking fast, trying to calm the fuck down. “My body can’t handle the stress,” he says. “Can you please make the process slower. I’m already on the second trimester, and it’s been a little over a month.” 

Redhead looks at him with apologetic eyes. “Sorry, I can’t. Even if I wanted to I couldn’t do anything to change what’s already been done.” She gives him a sedative, then says, “Please sleep. I’ll keep an eye out for the baby.”

He tries to stay awake, but the exhaustion and drugs together are too effective, and soon, he falls into a dreamless sleep. 

When he wakes up his hands have been bandaged, and Redhead is sitting next to him, reading. Stiles gets an eery hospital feeling, and he almost expects to see Melissa walking in through the door. 

“How are you feeling?” Redhead asks, putting her book away. 

“Better.” Stiles wants to get back to Derek. “Can I go now?”

“Do you want to know why he’s still with you?” she asks after starting to push him out of the room. 

“Why?”

“There are two known cases of a mage carrying a child. The third lost the baby because the father died. You need him. Stay calm and stay close to him, and you’ll be fine.”

They are at the cell, and she readies the wolfsbane guns before opening the door and pushing Stiles in. 

“You’ll be fine,” she says again, then strokes Stiles cheek and leaves him there. 

Derek runs to him when the guns pull away, freeing Stiles in two seconds and pulling him into his arms, lifting him up. “I was so worried,” Derek says, carrying Stiles to bed. “You’ve been gone for hours.”

“It’s okay,” Stiles whispers. 

“What happened to your hands?” Derek puts Stiles down gently, then lies next to him, taking one of Stiles’ hands into his own. 

“I’m okay. It’s just stress. And Derek…” He looks at Derek in the eyes. “The baby is fine too. The baby is… real.”

Derek nods. “I know. I can hear the heartbeat.” 

Stiles closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to tell Derek that there is no way out, that no amount of Stiles’ magic can free them because it’s a military base, and they are not the only test subjects here. He saw _things_ , creatures, prison cells just like theirs, and it goes on and on. The place is endless.

Derek rubs his nose against Stiles’ cheek. “I was going crazy without you.”

It breaks his heart to know that he won’t be able to save Derek or the baby. “They won’t separate us. She told me you’re keeping the baby alive so we have at least until the baby is born.” 

Derek pulls Stiles’ back against his chest, makes him the little spoon, and it’s pretty much all Stiles wants right now. He curls into a ball, lets Derek hold him close, and tries not to think. He can’t let go of the vastness of the place and how small it made him feel. They are underground, just like he thought, and nobody is going to find them.

“They are coming for us,” Derek whispers so quietly Stiles can barely hear him, his lips brushing the back of Stiles neck. “Scott, Lydia… They managed to send a message. They are coming.”

Stiles curls closer to Derek, trying not to cry out of sheer relief. He has no idea how they are going to pull it off since the enemy seems to be bigger than anything they’ve faced so far, but if anyone can figure it out it’s Lydia. He puts all his faith in Lydia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was challenging to write because it's all plot and little details, and I had to remember it all. Gah, sometimes I wish I could show the entire story because the paper gets only parts of it, and this one has an entire world out there. 
> 
> @aislinntlc helped me comb through it, and hopefully it works. <3 Thank you for following this.


	8. Chapter 8

Derek has located most of the cameras in their prison, and they spend as much time out of their reach as possible. Privacy is something that doesn’t happen naturally in this place, but it’s something they both crave, and that is why they are now huddled in a corner close to the bathroom.

Derek has Stiles’ back against his chest, his legs and arms around Stiles’ body, and he’s growling softly in Stiles’ ear. It’s so freaking soothing Stiles is almost falling asleep. 

“I know,” Stiles whispers, and Derek hugs him tighter, holds him closer, but doesn’t say anything. 

He knows what this means to Derek, what family means, what losing it means to him, how scared he is of losing Stiles and the baby. There’s no way Stiles can promise that it won’t happen, but he wants to promise it. He wants to tell Derek that everything is going to be alright. 

It’s been two days, and they haven’t yet heard from the pack, but Redhead told them through the intercom that they’re going to be presented to buyers tomorrow. 

It freaked Derek out completely because it’s a new threat they know nothing about, and Stiles made him sit down and hold him so Derek would know that they are still here, that the baby is still okay. Derek can smell the baby’s emotions, and that’s always good for his instincts. 

Derek noses the side of Stiles’ head, still growling low. 

“I love you too,” Stiles says, then stops because the baby moves. He takes Derek’s hand and guides it where the baby is kicking, and Derek buries his nose in Stiles’ neck and breathes in deep. 

“Do you ever sing?” Stiles asks, and Derek lets out a startled laugh. 

“I did, a long time ago.”

“To Cora?”

“And Matthew.” Derek sounds wistful. 

“Would you dare to sing now?” Stiles’ heart is pounding. He doesn’t want to offend Derek or sound stupid, but he thinks it might be good for Derek.

“Sing what?” 

Stiles bites his lip, stroking Derek’s wrist gently. “Enter Sandman?”

Derek moves a little, and Stiles turns to look at him. There’s a funny expression on Derek’s face, something Stiles has never seen before. 

“My dad loved Pink Floyd. How about High Hopes?”

Stiles nods, dumbfounded because he didn’t believe that Derek would ever sing to him. He leans his head against Derek’s shoulder and closes his eyes, waiting.

“I can’t remember all the words,” Derek says, sounding embarrassed. “I’ve forgotten so much.”

“It’s okay.”

Derek sighs. “Okay.” He starts quietly, his voice giving out, and he has to clear his throat, but when he tries again, his voice is warm and deep and it sneaks under Stiles’ skin, makes him shiver. 

Sometimes Derek just hums, but most of the words come to him after a little while.

Looking beyond the embers of bridges glowing behind us  
To a glimpse of how green it was on the other side  
Steps taken forwards but sleepwalking back again  
Dragged by the force of some inner tide 

At a higher altitude with flag unfurled  
We reached the dizzy heights of that dreamed of world 

Encumbered forever by desire and ambition  
There's a hunger still unsatisfied  
Our weary eyes still stray to the horizon  
Though down this road we've been so many times 

“Oh my god, you’ve been sitting on some serious talent,” Stiles says, turning sideways in Derek’s arms.

Derek mumbles something way too humble, but Stiles keeps pushing.

“Seriously, you’re singing all the lullabies to this baby. I can teach her to play drums, but you, you’ll make her love music.”

Derek looks confused for a second, then says, “Her?”

“Well… yeah…”

There’s a moment when Derek looks utterly lost, but the expression quickly disappears under a radiant smile. “You’re giving me a baby girl?” 

“More like us both, but yeah, it’s a girl. I didn’t realize before.” Stiles turns his magic inwards, feels her inside, and it’s like she’s smiling back at him. She can’t be smiling, not really, but it feels like happiness. 

“Stiles?” Derek takes hold of Stiles’ chin. 

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Stiles chokes on the intense feelings rushing through him, and all he can do is stare at Derek. 

Derek presses his lips against Stiles’ ear and whispers, “I need you to win this.” Then he bites Stiles, gently at first, questioning, and when Stiles stays relaxed in his arms, he bites deep enough to break Stiles’ skin. It hurts, but it also fills Stiles with belonging. He doesn’t know if it’s werewolf magic or his own, but he feels stronger, more determined, and there’s no doubt in his mind that he’ll be able to save his little family.

*

Stiles is standing with his hands tied above his head, feeling cold because he’s shirtless. There is some kind of a machine attached to his round stomach, and he’s guessing it’s showing on a monitor somewhere that there is a baby growing inside him. He’s blindfolded so he has no idea where he is this time, but at least Derek is standing next to him. 

Redhead is speaking with people Stiles hasn’t met before, and it’s clear everyone is anxious and eager to get on with the show. This is the market for mage babies after all.

Stiles is nervous, but most of all, he’s worried about Derek because he’s groaning, electricity running through his body, making him unable to flee or fight. 

They haven’t been gagged so he whispers, “Are you okay?”

“Surviving,” Derek mumbles, and there’s a hint of sarcasm there too so Stiles knows he can handle it. 

“This is the mage, as you can see,” Redhead says, “and this is the werewolf.” Derek makes a horrible sound, a howl-whine that is ear-shattering, and Stiles knows Redhead just hurt Derek to make him show his beta face. Derek growls, anger emanating from him, but Redhead ignores him and keeps talking to the customers. 

She tells the possible buyers who Stiles is, his powers and abilities, how they got their hands on him, and how they managed to make him pregnant. Then she talks about Derek and what a fine specimen he is because of his lineage and because he’s not only been a Beta but an Alpha, too. She also explains their magical bond, and how that made the whole thing possible. 

Stiles decides that when this is all over, he’s going to lock her in a dungeon with rats for the rest of her very short and painful life. 

Then he hears one of the buyers ask: “Is it possible to breed them again?” and it’s not the question that shocks him, but who’s asking it. He feels Derek stiffen next to him and then relax, breathing steadier than before. Stiles tries to relax too, but he’s never been as good at faking it as the others. 

Lydia sounds confident and cold, an arrogant air around her much like in high school but crueler. She was pretty damn cruel back then too. 

Stiles’ heart is pounding in his chest. This could be it. He has to be ready to act if shit hits the fan big time. 

“It depends on how the C-section goes, and if his body can handle the stress, but we’re hopeful that it can be done again, but only with this pairing. He wouldn’t respond to anyone else,” Redhead sounds like she’s talking about livestock, her voice professional and poised. 

“Let’s start the negotiations.” It’s the first time Eyepatch speaks, and Stiles realizes that he’s the one in charge even though Redhead has made all the major decisions so far. Her motives for doing this might be completely different from Eyepatch’s, and that could be important information for later. He holds onto that idea, because it’s frustrating to feel helpless. 

They are left where they are, and Stiles’ shoulders are already starting to ache. They could’ve at least let them go back to their room. The waiting is pure torture, especially for Derek who’s getting electrocuted every passing second. 

It seems to take hours for anyone to give any attention to them even though Stiles tells everyone in one mile radius what he thinks of them. He just can’t keep his mouth shut because if he does he’s going to wail. The pain is getting too intense. 

Then suddenly, Stiles feels a strange presence inside his mind, and for a second there, he thinks Redhead has realized his magic is back. Then he hears Lydia’s distinct voice telling him: _Shut up and listen. We need the layout of this place. Do you have it in your mind?_

He has no idea how Lydia is doing this since banshees have a different set of skills, but he doesn’t waste any time asking, just shows how much he knows about the facility.

 _Shit, it’s that big._ She’s quiet for a tiny moment, then says, _You’re held here?_ He feels her poking at their prison with her mind, and he says _yes_ , using most of his power to conceal that they are having a conversation. 

_What’s the plan?_ he asks, and she huffs, frustrated. 

_These assholes are forcing us to use plan B. We’re getting you out tomorrow morning at five am. Be ready for explosions. You have your magic?_

_Yes._

_Good. We have the supernatural unit of the FBI with us so we’re not that outnumbered but we don’t know what kind of traps they have here. Be ready for everything. And stay safe. I gotta go now._

Stiles feels odd when Lydia is gone. It’s too quiet and lonely inside his mind, and he has to shake his body to get rid of the feeling. He’s missed pack so much, and right now, that ache squeezes his heart, rendering him defenseless against the pain. 

“Stiles?” Derek sounds worried, and Stiles wants to tell him what’s going on, but that has to wait until later. 

“My arms are cramping, don’t worry.” 

But Derek worries, growling at the people in the room to let them back into their prison because Stiles shouldn’t be stressed like this. 

To Stiles’ surprise, they actually listen to Derek, and after a while, they are helped back to the cell. 

Stiles uses the shower again to tell Derek what’s going on, whispering in his ear, letting Derek hold him as close as possible. Derek strokes Stiles’ back and sides the entire time, and Stiles knows how anxious all this makes Derek. Nothing is certain, but at least they have a chance now. 

Derek makes sure Stiles is comfortable when they lie on the bed, pretending to be sleeping. They don’t have a clock so they don’t know when five am is going to happen, but it’s sooner than they’ll expect, Stiles is sure. 

They are dressed in sweats and T-shirts, but they don’t have their shoes here so whatever happens, it’s going to kill Stiles’ feet. He listens to Derek’s heartbeats, counting seconds, his magic ready to shield them when the first blast comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will have two more chapters, I think. Sorry about the longer wait. I had a tiny block, and I was busy, but it's all gone now. :) The funny thing is, I should know already that whenever I have a block, it's because I'm missing a scene from the beginning, and I'm trying to write the middle part first. I'm a linear writer so I always know when something is missing. I just don't always realize it, and then block happens. Have a wonderful new week. 
> 
> Many thanks to my wonderful beta, @aislinntlc. <333


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles tries to breathe, but there’s too much noise. He can’t see a thing, and there’s something in his ears or mouth. He can’t tell. Nothing makes sense.

“Stiles!”

He looks up, but it doesn’t help him because up isn’t where it’s supposed to be. He touches his face, tries to remember what happened. 

“Stiles, take this. Breathe.”

Something gets pushed against his face, something wet and warm, and he realizes it’s a red shirt. Derek’s maybe. 

“Breathe. We need to go.”

There’s no floor under his feet, just rubble and debris, just bits and pieces of their bed, of their life. _Their bed_? 

Stiles looks at Derek, and there’s blood on his face, on his arms, his shirt torn and bloody, too.

Derek warned Stiles. He had the shield up. Then why are his ears ringing? 

“Come on.” Derek takes his arm and half-carries Stiles towards the wall that once held the door to their prison. There is a huge hole there instead. “They blew up the cell,” Derek says, and Stiles feels like he’s underwater. He can barely make sense of Derek’s words. “They are blowing up the others too.”

God, they are getting rid of the evidence. 

Stiles holds onto Derek’s arm, tries to walk with him, but he can’t seem to control his legs. He holds the wet shirt against his face, hoping that it keeps the worst of the poisonous smoke out of his lungs. 

Derek has a wet shirt over his mouth, too, and Stiles thinks he’s awesome for not trying to be a superhero. 

“Which way?” Derek asks when they reach a four way crossing. 

Stiles points forward. He wants to go to the large square because he thinks that might be the place where the elevators to the surface are. 

At first, they see no one anywhere, but then suddenly, Derek pushes Stiles down and behind a desk because there’s people dressed as doctors rushing past them, yelling at each other. Then a team of soldiers run by, and Stiles hides his face in Derek’s chest, his arm around his own stomach, protecting the baby. It’s crazy how much fear squeezes his heart in that moment, like he’s never going to be able to get up, move, run for safety.

He gets up anyway because he’s not going to die here. 

There are more explosions around them, lots of screaming coming from everywhere, but Stiles ignores it. He has to get them out. 

They can’t hide from the next set of soldiers, and there’s nothing Stiles can do but blast his way through them. He’s full of righteous anger when he’s done with them, and Derek holds the now almost dry shirt in his hand, staring at Stiles with an open mouth. 

Stiles pants, touching Derek’s cheek, wanting to comfort him somehow, but there’s no time. He takes Derek’s hand and starts pulling him towards the square, almost slipping on blood. He feels nauseous, and it hurts how little he cares. 

He can’t care, not right now. 

They encounter one more group of their captors before reaching the square, and Derek attacks them before Stiles can do anything, making sure that Stiles doesn’t have to _hurt-maim-kill_ anyone else. Derek is not a killer, but Stiles is his mate, and that makes him a dangerous beast. 

The last few steps towards the square are an effort, and Stiles is not sure if they can make it. Too much blood, too much carbon monoxide, too little strength left.

He grabs Derek’s shoulder, holds himself up, helps Derek, too, and creates an oxygen bubble around them with the strength he has left. He should’ve done that first, but his mind is not responding the way it should.

They stumble to the large square, and there’s nobody there. Everything is eerily silent, and it feels like a dawn before war. Stiles can’t think of anything. His feet are bleeding, one of his toenails missing, and he should probably feel it, but no pain registers. 

“What now?” Derek asks, looking around. Stiles follows his gaze, equally lost with what to do. The square is really a hexagon, five different corridors leading out of it, and there’s an infinity symbol on the floor, made of tiny pebbles. One wall is nothing but sliding metal doors. _The elevators._

Derek takes a step towards them, but Stiles holds onto him, makes him stop. There’s something wrong with this place, and... Where is everybody? 

When the shaking starts he’s already pulling Derek towards the closest corridor. “Run!” Stiles abandons the oxygen bubble and uses all his remaining energy to shield them from the falling ceiling. They run as fast as they can, not stopping until they reach a laboratory that is not yet falling apart. 

There are cages full of people and creatures, and before Stiles can say anything, Derek is already trying to break the locks or bend the bars. Everyone is screaming, crying, howling, and the noise makes Stiles’ head hurt. 

He looks for keys, anything that could free the others, but the lab is a mess, and it looks like people left in a hurry. Someone’s warm coffee is still on the table, lipstick stains on it. 

“Stiles, I can’t break them free.” Derek looks desperate, his hands clenched into tight fists. 

Stiles looks through the bars, tries to see who’s there, who might attack them if they let them go. “Is there anyone dangerous?” he asks Derek. 

“The werewolves don’t seem feral. The others… I don’t know. Nobody smells dangerous, just scared.” 

Stiles holds his hand out to Derek. “Hold me up.”

Derek takes the hand. “Are you sure? You’re drained already.”

“I can handle it. I won’t hurt the baby.” 

Derek’s eyes turn blue, then he pulls Stiles against his body, Stiles’ back to his chest, his arm around Stiles. “Be careful.”

“Always.” Stiles stares at the people in the cages. “Back off! I’m going to blast you out.”

Everyone follows the order, their eyes big and their defeated faces hopeful. When they are far enough Stiles gathers his magic, makes it shimmer, makes it vibrate with his heartbeats, and then lets it out, giving everything he has to this while protecting the baby from the strain the magic puts his body through. 

He loses consciousness before knowing if he succeeds freeing them. The last thing he registers is Derek lifting him up in his arms. 

Stiles catches a glimpse here and there, Derek leading the ragtag group, more explosions and the heat of fires burning too close, uncontrollable and wild. He hears Derek tell him to please wake up, but when he tries to respond, the darkness feels too heavy, and he can’t see through it to create words. 

*

“Stiles?”

He’s sitting on a pier, his feet touching the warm water. 

“Stiles? Wake up. I need you to wake up.”

He looks up, and the sky is as blue as ever. Nothing worries him, yet he feels anxious. 

“Please.”

Maybe he should be somewhere else. He splashes the water with his feet, the circles multiplying, getting bigger and bigger. He wonders what kind of monsters lie beneath the surface. 

“I can’t do this without you.”

He imagines the monsters grabbing his foot, pulling him under, and then he stands, removes his shirt and shoes, and jumps into the dark water. When he can’t resurface he doesn’t panic. He’s not going up anyway. He’s not staying. 

Stiles moves his fingers, and Derek takes his hand. “Oh my god,” Derek whispers, sounding open to the deepest corners of his heart.

“I guess my brainstem is working,” Stiles croaks, and Derek laughs, holding a plastic mug against Stiles’ lips, helping him drink. When he’s done drinking he asks, “How long have I been out of it?”

“Two days. They didn’t know if you’d wake up.” Derek touches his cheek and lips, slides his fingers over Stiles’ brow, then rests his hand against Stiles neck. 

“Is the baby--”

“She’s fine.” Derek leans close, resting his head against Stiles shoulder. “She’s fine, and you’re going to be fine.”

“What about you? And… where am I? Did we get out?”

“We’re out. We’re in a makeshift emergency room Deaton and Melissa put together. We can’t take you anywhere with the baby. Nobody can know that you’re having her.”

Stiles tries to sit up, but he’s too weak. He settles for scowling. “What are they planning to do?”

“You have no idea how much work they’ve done to keep it all a secret. When they found out what our captors had done, Lydia and Danny created a girl you met in college, the one you got pregnant after you had a get together with your old college buddies. She called you a few months ago to tell you that she’s sick and that she’s probably not going to live through the birth.They have her entire history created from kindergarten to her first job.”

Stiles stares at Derek. “Whoa…” 

“Yeah, when the baby is born you’re going to be her father and nobody is ever going to know that she’s special.”

It’s all a little too much. “We’re safe? What happened?”

“You got the others out, and they helped me get us out, and then we ran into Scott.” Derek nuzzles Stiles’ neck. 

“That’s not an explanation,” Stiles says, so much softness in his voice he sounds like a sappy fool. He can’t help it. 

“Don’t wanna explain.” Derek moves, lies down next to Stiles on the bed, wrapping his arm around Stiles. “You’re here. I’ve been worried.”

Stiles strokes Derek’s hand, and Derek entwines their fingers, sighing. 

“I missed you,” Derek mumbles against Stiles’ skin.

Yeah, the stories can wait. Derek is all he needs right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots to show still, but here's this part. <3 I hope it's good enough. :) 
> 
> @aislinntlc probably has no idea how much she matters to me and how much I appreciate her work. :) She should know, though.


	10. Chapter 10

There’s a knock on the door, and Derek goes stiff, still expecting danger even though they are safe. Stiles kisses the top of Derek’s head and strokes the back of his hand, then says, “Come in.”

It’s his dad who is shocked to see Derek in the same bed with Stiles even though they’ve known each other for years. His dad knows how important pack is to Stiles. “How are you?” John asks quietly, like he’s expecting Derek to be asleep. 

Stiles smiles. The blanket and Derek’s arm are covering his stomach pretty well, but Stiles is sure his dad knows about this too. It freaks him out, but there’s no judgment on his dad’s face. “I’m good, getting better.”

John drags the chair closer to the bed, and Stiles notices his arm is in a sling. When John sees his concerned look, he just waves his hand dismissively, sitting down. “It’s nothing, Son.”

Stiles frees his hand from Derek’s and holds it out to his dad who takes it, squeezing it hard. “I can’t believe you’re here,” Stiles says, trying to hold back the emotions. They’ve been held captive for so long, and he hasn’t seen any familiar faces beside Derek’s. It feels surreal. 

“I can believe you’re here,” John says firmly. “We came and got you, and you… You did so good. You chose the right direction. They started destroying the place from your end, and we could’ve lost you from that alone. The ceiling collapsed… and I’m just so proud of you.”

Derek nuzzles closer to him, but otherwise doesn’t react to the sheriff’s presence. He’s had Stiles to himself all this time, and it must be difficult for him to share. Stiles brushes his free hand through Derek’s hair, then leaves it there, and Derek relaxes, humming low in his throat. 

“So what is this?” John asks, and Stiles winces. Yeah, what is it? 

Stiles breathes in, then lets it out, thinking about the only thing that has mattered during the weeks they’ve been prisoners. “I think we’re family,” he whispers, and his dad looks up, not quite surprised. 

“And you’re going to have a family.”

Yeah, that. Stiles bites his cheeks, trying to keep the fear at bay. “Yeah, sorry.” He has no idea what he’s apologizing for, but this time his dad leans close enough to kiss his forehead and says, “I can’t tell you I’m totally fine about being a granddad at fifty-six, but I’ll forgive you.”

Stiles sucks in a breath, tears welling up in his eyes, too shocked to say anything. He didn’t know how much he needed that acceptance, but he did. He puts his arm around his dad, trying to breathe and not get a stupid panic attack. He’s happy, not scared for his life anymore. He should be able to breathe. 

“We’ll protect her,” his dad says. “You just promise to take care of yourself… And him too. He’s been a pain in our butts while you were unconscious.”

“He loves me,” Stiles says, knowing it’s true, feeling it in his bones, in his blood. Derek loves him.

“We know. Nothing is more clear than that. He hasn’t slept at all.”

Derek growls, and Stiles pats his head. “Shut up, and go to sleep.” Derek gets more comfortable, his nose buried in Stiles’ neck, and does what he’s told to, for once, but not before he bites Stiles gently.

John leans back, looks at them for a while, then says, “This is the strangest thing that’s ever happened to our family, maybe any family ever.”

Stiles nods. “I want to think it’s not all bad.”

John looks startled, then laughs. “Oh, but if you don’t take the good with the bad you’ll never be happy.”

If Stiles concentrates only on the awful things that keep happening to them, he’ll never find his safe haven. He knows that, and most of the time, he can see through the bad and find the good in there too, but this… This is a little different.

“They altered everything about me,” he whispers, because he doesn’t want to admit it, say it out loud, especially not to his dad, but he has to talk about it. Parts of it are fascinating to him, and parts make him want to scream. He doesn’t know how to deal. 

“They left the most important parts attached. You’re you, and you’re the best you there is. And we all love you, including this furry problem case that’s lying on top of you.”

Stiles lets out a hysterical laugh, but his dad is right. They didn’t break anything that matters. They didn’t even manage to break the connection he and Derek share. It’s all theirs. “I’m so scared,” he whispers, and John touches his cheek gently. 

“Raising a family is a scary job. You want to keep that family safe always. You want to protect them from everything, even themselves. You want to do everything right. You want to be perfect for them. You can’t, but you’ll be wonderful, because you’ll love them. You can handle it. And you have us.”

Stiles just stares because he didn’t expect to have this talk with his dad. 

“You have him too. He carried you out, a blanket wrapped around you to protect you and the baby from prying eyes, and he wouldn’t let anyone close until I came along. He’ll be there for you until the end.” 

Stiles thinks about his mother, and he wonders if his dad sees something like that between them. He hopes so. “Can you tell me anything about what happened?” he finally says, because he desperately wants to change the subject. 

John looks grim, his smile vanishing and coldness seeping into his eyes. “It was an illegal research facility, funded by a global crime organization. There are three others on American soil, and the Supernatural unit of the FBI has taken the lead in this investigation. We’ve captured one of the main operatives running this facility, but the other two escaped. You would’ve been sold to the highest bidder, and the baby would’ve been used for a very specific spell. Lydia can tell you more about that. Her plan A was to be the highest bidder, but it didn’t work so… Yeah... We wanted to get you out before attacking them because we had no idea what kind of safety precautions they had, and that would’ve been so much better than what actually went down. Unfortunately it didn’t work.”

“You got us out anyway,” Stiles says, then swallows, dreading to ask the next question. “How many did we manage to save?”

“Many. Not all. There were other laboratories and cells that were completely destroyed before we got there. But you two freed everyone from the lab that got destroyed right after. You were so incredibly lucky.”

Then why doesn’t he feel lucky? And it’s so unfair that there were others just like them who didn’t make it. 

“We saved hundreds, Stiles, and we would’ve never known about the facilities if you two hadn’t been captured. We’re going to find them all, and we’re going to save many more. I promise.”

Stiles closes his eyes, tries to feel grateful, but he can’t. He remembers the blood on his hands, blood he spilled, and his heart starts to beat double time. 

“Hey,” John says with a gentle voice. “We can never save everyone. We have to be glad about the ones we do, though. They matter more than you know. Every life saved.”

“I know. I just…” Stiles swallows again, tries to get rid of the lump in his throat. 

“You want to save them all.”

Stiles nods. 

John hugs him, and they stay like that for a long while, giving Stiles the time to relax and breathe normally again. 

The next visitor they get is Scott. Derek is awake again but he’s still not willing to leave Stiles’ side or even acknowledge anyone who comes in. They just ignore him, except Scott strokes Derek’s shoulder and neck, just to make sure that he knows they are pack, and he’s not there to take Stiles away from him. 

Stiles would find Derek’s silence funny if he didn’t know where it’s coming from. Derek’s wolf is out of control because of everything that has happened to Stiles and to them, and it’s hard for Derek to rein it. He keeps the wolf under his skin by having Stiles close. 

Scott is uncharacteristically quiet for a long while, but Stiles doesn’t mind. It feels good to have him around, and even though everything sucks balls on a superior level, this is home. Scott is their Alpha and having him here makes things better. Even Derek lifts his head after a while and looks at Scott, baring his neck a little. 

That settles everything, and Scott pulls them into a hug, breathes them in, and lets out a satisfied rumble. 

A weird peace settles into Stiles’ heart, and after that they just chat about random stuff. Scott tells Stiles about all the TV shows he’s missed and what’s been going on in the world while they were gone. They gossip about Martha, the coffee shop owner who likes to tease customers with her low cut shirts, and then talk about the side projects the pack has had while trying to figure out how to save Derek and Stiles. They had a few border problems with other packs, and also managed to save San Diego from a nasty little demon, little being the operative word because it was the size of Scott’s middle finger. 

Stiles laughs so much his stomach starts to ache, and Derek holds him tighter, almost purring like a cat. Being home is the best fucking thing ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm actually trying to finish this before we leave to Japan so I'm working double-time to make it happen. :P Unfortunately I don't have much energy to write on weekdays so weekends it is. :D I hope you like it. And now I can pretty much say it's going to have one chapter and an epilogue, and then it's done.


	11. Chapter 11

Stiles pokes at Derek’s arm, makes him stir and bat his lashes, and it’s dreadfully endearing. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” Stiles whispers because he doesn’t want to wake anyone else. He has no idea where they’re being held, but he’s determined to find out. He wants to explore their surroundings, and he wants Derek to come with him. 

“Go away,” Derek mutters, hiding his face in Stiles’ armpit. It makes Stiles squirm. 

“Come on, Derek.” He tickles Derek’s ear with his fingertips. “You can do it.”

Derek groans. 

“Let’s go. Please.”

Derek lifts himself up, staring down at Stiles with accusing eyes. “It’s too early.”

Stiles grins. He hasn’t been sleeping for the past two hours because his inner clock is totally messed up. “Perfect.” He sits up, takes Derek’s hand, and pulls him towards the door. 

They sneak out of the room to a long corridor. It looks like a motel, but it doesn’t seem to have any other guests. 

The roof is calling for Stiles, but he doesn’t know why, not until they get there. The sun is rising, and it’s the first time he’s seen it in months. He holds Derek’s hand tighter, overwhelmed by the feelings.

Derek is standing behind him, and when Stiles is just looking up, mesmerized, Derek curls his arm around Stiles' round stomach and pulls him close. “It’s beautiful,” Derek says next to his ear. 

Stiles couldn’t agree more. They are breathing fresh air, and they are both alive. It’s more than he expected, more than he hoped for. It’s everything. He lets Derek hold him for a long while as they watch the sunrise, his _serious thoughts_ locked behind a heavy door. He wants to ignore all the real world problems. 

“They caught the redhead,” Derek says after a while. “Her name is--”

“Don’t tell me.” Stiles puts fingers in his ears, and he barely stops himself from making mindless noise to drown Derek’s words. “I don’t want to know.”

Derek pulls Stiles’ hands away, kissing his knuckles quickly. “Okay, if you insist. But Scott would like to have your opinion about the whole situation and how to approach it. You are his emissary.”

“I quit.” He’s had it. He’s done. He wants to stomp his foot for good measure. 

Derek laughs, the sound soft in Stiles’ ears. “Okay, but I’m still a werewolf. I can’t leave the pack.”

“You can keep them, but I’m done with the rest of the supernatural. I’m only keeping you.” He’s going to have Derek’s baby, and that’s all the supernatural he’s willing to endure for the next twenty years. 

“I’m glad you want me at least.” Derek sounds hopelessly happy. 

“I want the baby, too,” Stiles says because it might not be obvious, and he wants Derek to know how he feels. He wants to have this life with Derek, and he wants it to be a safe life for all them. “But I’m not going to do this alone. She’s yours too.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Derek says vehemently, sounding almost offended.

Stiles smiles. “I know. But I don’t want you to run face first into danger all the time. I want you to think. I want you to pick your battles more carefully. And I’m not going to be the stay-at-home-dad while you go save the world. Others can do it for a change.” Stiles had no idea he feels this strongly about the whole issue. They’re going to be responsible for a child, and he’s going to do his best to give her a good life. And he’s not willing to do it alone. He’s not. The whole idea makes him breathe funny, like he’s choking, and it’s a fucking sneaky panic attack. 

He turns in Derek’s arms, breathes against his chest, tries to make his mind stop spinning. He’s petrified, so fucking scared of the future, of failure. There’s never been anyone else, not like this. And now, he has to provide a safe home, and it all started with a fucking kidnapping. He’s never going to manage...

“Stiles, you’re thinking too far ahead,” Derek says, rubbing his back, then squeezing his shoulder. “Lydia and Danny have done an amazing job keeping her hidden. You rented a motel room here to be close to the mother of your child. They’ve used your credit card to buy stuff. They’ve had you send messages to work, to friends. You’ve been here the whole time. Nobody will know. She’ll be safe, and you’ll be an awesome father.”

“Papa.” Stiles sniffs against Derek’s shirt. “You’ll be dad or daddy.”

Derek lets out a funny breath, like he breaks somehow. “Yeah… I’d love to be her daddy.”

“Okay…” Stiles curls his hands in Derek’s shirt. “And you’ll do half of the night feedings?”

Derek snorts. “I’m the light sleeper; I’ll do eighty percent of them.”

Stiles looks up. “Are you trying to say I’m lazy?”

Derek kisses his right eyebrow. “I’m saying you’re a heavy sleeper and not a morning person.”

“Who’s moving in with who?”

Derek looks bashful, not meeting Stiles’ eyes. “I was thinking maybe we could buy a pack house.” 

“A pack… what?”

“I know you said you don’t want anything supernatural anymore, but it’s good for the pup… child to grow up with the pack. She’s most likely going to be a werewolf, and the more she has us around, the more she’ll learn about the differences between us. She’ll know she doesn’t have to be like her… dad, that she can be like Cora or Cynthia or Isaac.”

“Not like Scott?” Stiles stifles a giggle.

“Well…”

The idea feels weird to Stiles, but their whole family is weird, and the baby would be safe with so many werewolves around. “We need to ask the others. We can’t just decide for them.”

“Actually… It was Scott’s idea. He was devastated when we disappeared, and it crippled him in ways he hadn’t experienced before. It was worse than when he couldn’t heal from the wounds when he thought I had died. He was bedridden for a week, and Lydia did all the work with the Sher-- with John and the rest. He wants us close.” 

Stiles rests his head against Derek’s shoulder. “So it’s up to me?”

Derek nods. “It’s up to you.”

“Can I think about it?” Stiles pulls Derek even closer. 

“You can decide whatever you want. Maybe it’s a house near your dad for just the three of us. I don’t mind. But the pack can do amazing things to keep the baby happy, and they’d help us, too.” 

That makes Stiles realize how much he’ll need that help, how much he’ll need his dad and the pack, and Derek. “I’m not ready for this,” he whispers. 

“I’m not either, but Stiles, she’s going to be ours, and we’ll make something good out of it. I promise.”

Maybe, or maybe they’ll end up tearing each other apart. He’s so confused with all the mixed feelings he has about everything, but the one thing he knows for sure is that Derek owns him. Maybe that’s why he blurts out: “I want you to claim me before the baby is born. I want us.”

Derek smiles against Stiles’ skin. “I want us too.”

Stiles looks up. “Can you do it now?”

“Right now? Here?”

He doesn’t want any witnesses, and they don’t need anyone’s permission. The wind blows lightly around them, and the sun warms Stiles’ back. Here is perfect, on the roof of an old motel, just the sky as their witness. “Yeah, here.”

Derek doesn’t ask if he’s sure; he just pushes Stiles to an arm’s length and stares at him. “I’ll love you for the rest of my life. And I’m sure it’s sometimes going to be difficult - if not impossible - with you.”

Stiles snorts, but holds his tongue.

“But this is what I want.” Derek pauses. “Will you be my moon companion?”

Stiles swallows, staring at Derek. “Yes, for all the cycles to come.”

Derek pulls Stiles close, whispers in his ear, “This is going to hurt.” then bites Stiles’ neck, breaking the skin. Stiles gasps even though he already knows how it feels to be bitten by Derek. This is still different. 

Derek is holding Stiles’ wrists, and when he releases Stiles’ neck, he takes one of the wrists to his mouth, licking the skin, then biting it. Three points, connecting Stiles to Derek, making them mates under werewolf law. There’s one more bite Stiles needs to endure, and then it’s done. This last one, his left wrist, makes him groan and tilt his head back, his body lax in Derek’s arms. 

Their magical powers mix, wrapping around them in a profound way, Stiles’ skin humming with finality, his heart beating in unison with Derek’s. 

Derek pulls him into a hug, grabbing the back of his head, whispering sweet things Stiles can’t quite understand yet. 

“My life is insane,” Stiles says softly once he feels like himself again, his lips brushing Derek’s stubbled cheek. 

“I bet you never imagined this would happen,” Derek says, kissing the side of Stiles’ face. “I bet reality knocked you off your feet.”

Stiles laughs. “ _You_ knocked me off my feet, idiot.”

“I also knocked you up, but who’s counting.” 

Stiles pushes Derek away from him, hitting him with light fists. “Oh my god, you’re terrible.”

“You love me,” Derek says, grabbing Stiles’ upper arms to avoid the wounds on his wrists, stopping his attack efficiently. “Admit it.”

“I adore you, but I have no idea why. We were having a moment.”

Derek kisses him then, shuts him up and makes him take it, forces that softness on Stiles, makes him yield with tenderness, and it’s utterly intoxicating. Stiles takes hold of Derek’s shoulders, tries to stay on his feet because this is Derek kissing him as a free man, as his mate. This is finally their beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will have an epilogue still, and then it's done. :) 
> 
> I'm an angst writer so whenever I write happy endings and fluff I need a little encouragement. @aislinntlc is not only my beta; she also gives me just that little push I need to reveal that yeah, I wrote fluffy fluff of happiness. 
> 
> Thank you so much for following this story and for commenting and being so wonderful. It means a lot to me. <3


	12. Epilogue

Five Years Later

Stiles is picking up Aura from daycare when he gets a text from Derek: _Aura in trouble. Had a fight with another kid. Call me when you know more._

There’s only a text from Derek because he’s busy. They are renovating the house, making it a bit bigger for the pack - a room for Aura, a place for Derek’s artwork, another room for Scott and Kira’s baby - and the contractor is there today. 

Derek is first alphabetically so no wonder they called him, but they should know already that Wednesdays are Stiles’ days. Monday-Wednesday-Friday. The others do Tuesday and Thursday because he’s writing his PhD.

Aura is a handful, but Stiles expected nothing less from their daughter. She has Stiles’ endless yearn for knowledge and Derek’s short fuse mixed with a healthy dose of ADD. She also has strict ideas about right and wrong and can get a little carried away with people who don’t share her views. 

She abhors bullying so Stiles guesses this might have something to do with that.

He parks in front of the building, sitting in the car for a while, gathering his wits. He’s still not good at being the responsible adult. 

When he gets inside, Aura is sitting separately from everyone else, drawing something, but she perks up immediately when she senses Stiles. Instead of running to him, she saunters over, looking guilty. “I made his nose bleed,” she whispers, not meeting his eyes. He puts his hand on top Aura’s head, feeling overwhelmed. He shouldn’t be proud, yet that’s exactly what he is. 

Stiles looks around, noticing a boy staring at them, his nose stuffed with tissues, and what Stiles sees is desperate admiration. The boy is in love. Stiles sighs, feeling for him. 

Petra, the kindergarten teacher Stiles likes the most and who understands Aura the best, walks up to them. “Hello, Stiles. Can we talk?” Then she turns to look at Aura and says, smiling, “You have a pretty picture there. Finish it while we talk, okay?”

Aura bites her lip, but sits down and starts drawing again. She’s clearly upset, and Stiles wants to talk with her more than with the teacher. 

They go to the office for privacy, and Petra hops on the table, making everything feel less formal. Stiles stands opposite her, not crossing his arms even though he wants to. 

“She’s such a bright kid,” Petra says, “but we need to work on the way she handles situations that are emotional to her.”

“What happened?” Stiles asks, liking the fact that Petra thinks it’s a problem they should deal with together. 

“She got upset with Richard because he wouldn’t play with Mort and because he made actively clear how unwelcome Mort was. Mort stutters, and other kids sometimes find it weird or scary, but Aurelia is different. She’s always on the side of the underdog, in stories and in real life.”

Stiles knows that. She’s his daughter after all. “What did she do?”

“It went by so quickly we didn’t have time to react. At first, they appeared to be just talking, and then suddenly she jumped him, tripped him over, sat on top of him, and hit him. I don’t even know where she could’ve learned something like that.”

Stiles hides his face behind his hand because it’s hard to keep the smile off his face. 

Petra clears her throat, then continues, “We separated them immediately and talked to them, getting both sides of the story, and it’s clear that Richard has been teasing Mort for a while now. And Mort has become Aurelia’s… pet project.”

Stiles sees a bit of Lydia in her, too, and winces in shame. They are failing her. “You mean they are friends?” Stiles says hopefully. 

Petra is silent for a while, and that isn’t very promising. “She’s five, but sometimes she feels much older than that. She sees things, understands things, and at times, we’re at a bit of a loss with her. She’s so sweet, so kind, when it suits her, but… She’s so fierce when things don’t go her way.”

“At least her way is usually the right way,” Stiles says quietly. 

“That’s why we think she only needs help with the _way_ she deals with things. She should’ve come to us with her concerns. She should’ve told you that someone here is being bullied. She should trust us to take care of her and the others.”

Stiles wonders if this would be such a problem if she wasn’t a girl. “We’ll talk to her about this, about how to make different decisions, how to keep a cool head.” He hopes that’s what is expected of him, that it’s enough. 

Petra smiles. “And we’ll talk about bullying and how to respond to it: what’s acceptable and what’s not. Mort has been so unhappy, and Aura’s reaction brought things up, made it clear what’s going on. That’s a good thing. It takes work to make this better.”

“Can I take her home now?” He moves towards the door, and she jumps off the table, still smiling. 

“Go. And thank you for the talk. We’ll figure this out together.”

Stiles shakes her hand, then walks out of the office. “Baby, we’re going,” he hollers, and Aura comes running. 

“Finally,” she whispers, taking his hand. He grabs her stuff from the rack by the door, and then they’re on their way to the safety of his car. 

There, she puts the seat belt on, then sits quietly, pouting. 

“It’s hard to be a wolf, baby. Derek knows.” Stiles pats her head and she growls, still pouty. “You need to tell him, though.”

Aura looks at him, her eyes big. “Daddy will be mad.”

Stiles pushes her hair behind her ear. “You held back, didn’t you?”

She nods. 

“Then you’re already working on it. You’ll keep practicing with Daddy.” 

Before driving off, he sends Derek a message: _Could be worse. She didn’t lose control, and she was protecting another boy. We’ll work it out, and be gentle with her. She’s upset about it as it is._

When they get home Derek is waiting for them at the door. Stiles kisses the top of Aura’s head, then ushers her out of the car. She goes reluctantly, and he needs to push-pull her towards her daddy. Usually she’s already climbing his body to kiss him. 

She looks up at Derek, baring her neck, whining, and Stiles wonders a millionth time how it would feel if they were all werewolves. Sometimes he wishes he wasn’t an outsider in his own family. 

Derek makes a low growling sound that is more a welcome than the Pack Second being upset with the pup. Even Stiles can hear the difference, and he gives Derek a tiny smile over Aura’s head. 

“I hit a boy today,” Aura says solemnly. “‘But he was being a buttwipe.”

 _Buttwipe?_ Stiles mouths, and the corner of Derek’s lip threatens to curve up. 

“I didn’t grrrrrr at him,” she continues. “I didn’t. I was good. Even though he really hurt Mort.”

“You know that it’s okay to protect others,” Derek finally says. “But we need to be careful and should never hurt anyone.”

Derek clearly wants to continue, but Aura interrupts him, sounding desperate. “I know, Daddy, I know.” There are big tears welling up in her eyes, and Stiles can’t take it anymore. He picks Aura up, takes a step towards Derek and hugs them both. 

“It’s okay, baby,” Stiles whispers in her ear, and Stiles feels Derek pulling them closer, holding them tight. Stiles wants the world to be a bit safer and kinder to his little girl, but at least he knows she’ll be able to take care of herself. “Now, run to aunt Kira. She’s making pancakes.”

She lights up with joy, slides down Stiles’ side, and runs off, but not before taking Derek’s hand briefly and holding it against her cheek. 

They look at her until she’s out of sight, then turn towards each other. “I love her,” Derek says quietly. “But sometimes I worry so much.”

Stiles smiles. “I know.”

“She’s so like Laura.”

Stiles takes Derek’s hand into his own. “She’ll be fine. I promise.”

“I found a gray hair this morning.” Derek points at the side of his head, and Stiles leans closer to look, but Derek pulls him into one of those lingering, hopeful kisses that always lead to midnight sex. Stiles can’t hide the satisfied moan. 

“I love you,” Derek whispers between kisses. “You make everything easier.”

“How are the renovations?” Stiles asks, leaning his head against Derek’s shoulder. “How long?”

“Should take less than two weeks now.”

There’s a bathtub Stiles wants for the upstairs bathroom, and they still need to pick the wallpaper for Aura’s room. “Can we sneak out for a while?”

Derek looks inside, then takes Stiles’ hand and leads the way. Kira has been building a Japanese garden for the pack house so Derek takes him there, and they sit on a bench under a cherry tree.

It feels like they are in a fairy-tale world.

Derek leans back, his arm around Stiles’ shoulders. “Kira bought the koi today. The koi pond finally has three fishes.”

Stiles rests his head against Derek’s shoulder. “I’m glad.”

“Oh… and your dad is coming over for dinner on Saturday with Melissa. I think he’s finally starting to admit she’s more than just a good friend.” 

Stiles sighs. This is something Derek and he have been talking about for a while now. His dad deserves some happiness, but he’s so pigheaded. 

“I also fixed Aura’s bed. She can stop sleeping on the floor.” Derek kisses the side of Stiles head. “But I’m sure she’ll complain because it’s been like camping for her.”

One pack member has slept with her on the floor every night for the past week. Last night was Derek’s night, and Stiles is pretty sure that’s why the bed is now fixed. 

A peaceful silence settles between them, and all Stiles can think about is Derek’s presence in his life right now and all the days before and after this moment. They have been lucky. 

Derek kisses his forehead, nuzzling his skin. “Missed you today.”

Stiles grins, ridiculously happy. “Missed you too.” He spent the day at the university, meeting his research group, so their time together has been scarce. “Missed your scent.” He buries his nose in Derek’s neck, breathing in.

Derek makes a low growling sound, and it goes straight to Stiles’ groin, his hips jerking involuntarily. Derek laughs at him softly, moves his hand over Stiles’ heart, stroking his chest and then tweaking his nipple hard. 

That makes Stiles’ heart leap, and he gasps in pain and arousal. 

“Good?” Derek whispers, and Stiles nods against Derek’s shoulder, moaning. Derek hums when he twists his fingers around the bud of Stiles’ nipple, pulls at it. “I love to listen to your heart, how it beats for me… speeds up for me.”

“How can you still do that?” Stiles says, the words mere breaths. 

“Do what?” Derek asks, his lips brushing against the side of Stiles’ face.

“Make me feel this… desperate. I want you in me right now.”

Derek inhales sharply. “Can’t. The pancakes are almost ready.”

Stiles curses under his breath. 

“I can make you come, though,” Derek says cheekily, and Stiles groans because Derek is evil. There’s a hand over his achingly hard cock, and Stiles bucks up, keening, Derek squeezing him almost to the point of pain. 

“Fuck…” Stiles mutters, and Derek kisses his hair. 

“Yeah… tonight. I’m going to knot you, baby.”

“Please…”

Derek’s hand is huge and warm, and it moves faster against Stiles’ cock, stroking him through his jeans. 

The pack is inside, the bushes and trees keeping Stiles and Derek out of view, but the threat of getting caught is very real, and that makes Stiles hot with excitement. He needs Derek. He needs to come right this moment, and it doesn’t take long, just a few strokes, just a few whispered promises, and Stiles is spilling in his pants. 

Derek kisses him when it happens, keeps him quiet that way, makes him take it in silence, and Stiles is shaking, vibrating with the feelings. Derek’s mouth is warm, his lips sure and coaxing, and it’s his sanctuary, this person. He whimpers against Derek’s lips because it’s just too much. 

“I love you,” Derek says after a while, and Stiles gives the same words back to Derek, needs him to know that this life is exactly what he wants. 

“Papa! Daddy!” It’s Aura, yelling from the backdoor of the house. “Pancakes! We’ll eat them all if you don’t come now.”

“We just came,” Derek whispers in his ear, and Stiles snorts. His husband has the lamest sense of humor. 

“We’ll be there,” Stiles yells back, getting up and holding his hand out for Derek. 

They walk slowly towards the house, holding hands, and Stiles feels giddy, like he’s sixteen again and Derek is his first crush. 

“We have to clean up first,” Derek says, his lips brushing the side of Stiles’ head. A house full of werewolves means smelling like sex is not an option. 

They toe off their shoes on the porch so they’ll make less noise while running up the stairs to the bathroom. There, Stiles can’t help laughing because they are acting like kids sneaking behind their parents’ backs. 

Derek drops his pants, gets rid of his boxers too, and cleans himself up, watching Stiles the whole time. Then when he’s done, he pulls his pants up, going commando, and helps Stiles out of his jeans. It’s both tender and silly, but Stiles lets him do it because Derek loves to take care of him. They are soon ready, but before they go downstairs, Derek pulls him into a hug and kisses him stupid. It’s so good, and Stiles growls low in his throat, needing to show Derek what this means to him. 

He’s picked up a lot of werewolf behavior over the years, and maybe it means he understands Aura and Derek better than he thinks. Maybe he should stop worrying. Maybe Derek loves him just the way he is, and maybe he’s the best father Aura could ever have. Maybe.

In the kitchen, everyone is already sitting around the huge table, their voices loud with laughter and teasing but loving comments, and all Stiles can do is pull Aura in his lap, sit among his friends and family, and appreciate life. 

Everything may have started in an unconventional way, but they’ve made the most of their lives. Right now, Stiles would change nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't have finished this epilogue without @aislinntlc. She's such a gem, and I can never thank her enough. I've been writing this while traveling Japan. This chapter has seen Tokyo and Osaka, and while it's been forming in my head, I've been to Nara and Kyoto, too. It's been harder to write while on vacation because there are so many distractions, but they have very loud voices so I was finally able to finish this epilogue. I am so grateful for all the love this story has received. Thank you so much for following this story. It means a lot to me. Now starts the second part of my vacation, almost two weeks left. So exciting.
> 
> Have a beautiful day, everyone. Much love to you all.


End file.
